A Crow with a Rose
by Eternal-Explosionist
Summary: She was merely a speck in the grand scheme of life and creation, less than nothing next to him. Despite all of her...humanity, he began to keep an eye on her after their encounter. It was just good business strategy. When she got involved with the Winchesters, he found himself stepping in more often. The Hardy Boys couldn't have her, not when she already belonged to him.
1. Chapter 1

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter One**

* * *

January 1, 2000

Chicago, Illinois

* * *

The air was sharp that evening, the wind stinging against her exposed skin. Ragged breaths came out in frosted puffs of air as the girl paced back and forth. The congested traffic overhead was a steady stream of sound but every honked horn made her flinch terribly. Her gaze kept darting from side to side as she struggled to control her breathing, folding her arms so that her bare hands were tucked away. She tried to calm herself down but she couldn't get her pulse under control. Her heart was beating so hard she could practically feel herself vibrating with each resounding thump.

This was crazy. Beyond insane. So incredibly off the wall, out of the box, certifiably ridiculous. She couldn't believe that she was putting any stock in some backwoods rumor Johnny Callahan heard from his older brother. Hell, she even researched it.

The icing on the cake was the fact that she was actually going through with it.

But…god, she was just so _desperate_ …She needed something, anything at all…!

"Hello, darling."

This time she flinched so hard that her back gave a painful twang as she whirled around. Blue eyes were wide and unblinking, staring at the person who had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

Before her was a man dressed smartly in an all black suit and matching black coat. His hands slipped into his pockets as he looked at her. No. Study was a better word. She couldn't help a chill that ran up her spine, making her roll her shoulders back in response.

"Bit young to be making deals, wouldn't you say?" he commented. With a flick of his wrist he was suddenly holding a small tin box. He plucked out a white card and flipped it over, revealing her license photo and he raised an eyebrow. "You only just got this."

She pressed her lips into a firm line as he continued to rummage through the container.

"Photo, graveyard dirt, bone of a black cat," he paused to lift the dainty white flower with flourish and gave a sniff, "and yarrow flowers. Nice touch."

The box and flower vanished entirely as he returned his hands to his pockets, leveling her with his calculating gaze. Shivers ran up and down her spine this time.

"Now, why don't we get down to business then?"

She gave a stiff nod, slowly squaring her shoulders and bringing herself up to her full height.

He cocked an amused smirk. "Now, now. No need to get defensive. You called me, remember?"

"I want to make a deal," she heard herself say. Oh thank goodness she remembered how to speak.

The man gave an unimpressed sigh at her words, taking a moment to examine his fingernails.

"Of course you do. You humans never summon one of us for tea now do you? Always want something, you lot." He sighed again. "Go ahead. Love or something equally frivolous, am I right?"

Indignation sparked to life and she took an aggressive step forward, fists clenched tight and brought down to her sides.

"I want you to cure my sister!"

Her voice sounded distended under the bridge, loud yet quiet against the noisy traffic. The flush was returning to her cheeks as the man's face smoothed into a carefully neutral expression and his voice shifted, just slightly softer, she thought. It was probably just her mind playing tricks.

"A cure?"

"Yes!" she agreed fiercely, nodding her head. The fear was ebbing away, being replaced by long suppressed yet familiar frustration. "Yes, a cure—something that will make her better!"

"And what's in it for me, darling?"

"Anything! Anything you want!" The words were spilling out of her mouth now, she couldn't stop herself. "I have done everything that I possibly can to help but it's not good enough! I've prayed _so hard_ since we found out. I've gone to church, lit candles, prayed to everyone that I could think of in hopes that someone would hear me, that _someone_ could help her. I've prayed, I've cried, I've _begged_ for help, for a miracle and nothing. _Nothing_. She just keeps getting worse and worse and I can't—I can't…!"

She was choking on her own breath and she had to force herself close her eyes and to inhale deeply. "I can't sit by and do nothing…!"

There was the sharp clip of footsteps and she lifted her gaze to see the man stepping closer. Swallowing dryly, she held her ground, oblivious to the fact that her cheeks were slick with tears.

"Anything I want?"" His voice was soft, almost a purr. "Those are dangerous words, darling."

"My soul, eternal servitude, and hell, even my virginity if you want. I don't care about me," she promised, jaw tight. Her teeth were nearly chattering from the cold and the emotion of it all. "I just want my sister to be okay."

"I don't think you understand the offer you're making," he shrugged noncommittedly. "Call me again when you're a few years older."

He started to turn away and her stomach clenched in fear that he would leave. She didn't even hesitate, barely managing to snatch the front of his coat.

"No!" she pleaded. "She doesn't have years!"

He didn't seem thrown off by her sudden grab. Instead, he glanced coolly at her hands and then back to her eyes. She didn't dare let go, her nails digging into the material of his well-tailored coat.

"Well now, you certainly are forward," he smirked.

She didn't say anything, she only held on tighter. She couldn't risk letting this opportunity slip by, who knew the next time she would even get the sliver of a chance. She couldn't let the moment pass her.

"How about," he began, reaching up and taking her hands. His hands were very warm, she noted, her wrists easily held by his one hand as the other was still in its pocket. "I take your offer, everything you've said, and in exchange, I heal your sister and give you ten years."

"Ten years?" she echoed, confused. He would give her time? That was more than she expected. She thought he would take her the second the deal was struck.

"Yes, ten years. Then I'll come collect what's mine." Before she could open her mouth to agree to his terms, his grip tightened on her hands as he yanked her closer to him, making her stumble. She stared up at him, audacious enough to look into his eyes, unblinking. His eyes were hazel, she noticed.

"By the way, that eternal servitude?" he reminded. "It's to me, darling. Personally."

She nodded. "O-okay."

That smirk returned as he looked down at her. "Do you even know how to seal a crossroad deal?"

"A contract signed in blood?" she guessed.

He gave a humored chuckle at her ignorance. "Not for this kind of deal, kitten. You seal a crossroads deal with a _kiss_."

She could feel the heat of a blush flare up, crawling up the back of her neck, coloring her cheeks. She had never kissed anyone before…His amusement didn't lessen, as if he knew exactly how inexperienced she was, further proving her naivety. Taking a breath, she stood up straighter, her wrists still held tight by him, brushing against the material of his suit. She had to be taken seriously, she had to go through with the deal.

"What's your name?" she asked. In all the research she had come across, she knew there was importance in a name. Power. Not to mention that if she was going to be tied to him, she had to know what to call him.

"The name's Crowley."

"Crowley," she repeated, trying the name out for herself. "Okay."

Closing her eyes and plucking up every bit of her courage, she pushed forward, fingers grabbing his tie despite his hold and she pulled him to her. His mouth found hers and suddenly there was an incredible rush of warmth that filled every inch of her person. She felt his free hand slip around the back of her neck and pull her closer, her hands now pressed against his chest with the tie tightly clenched between her fingers, and the heat increased tenfold in a sudden burst.

Well, if this was losing her soul at least it didn't hurt.

It felt…good, even.

All too soon the heat left her when they parted and the Chicago cold settled back into her, burrowing deep and making her shiver. More than a little out of breath, she looked up at the crossroads demon and waited, wondering what was supposed to happen next. He smirked down at her. Again, it was like he knew what she was thinking.

"Go," he instructed. He let go of her hands, letting them fall back to her sides. "Go to your sister."

Numbly she nodded and tentatively started to back away, not quite sure if she should look away from him or not. When she nearly tripped, she turned her gaze forward to watch out for slick patches of ice. A thought struck her before she took another step and she turned back around instead.

"Wait—what if I…"

A gust of wind blew her hair back as she found herself completely alone. Not another soul could be seen for as far as she could see. She was the only one there.

"…need to call you?"

Letting loose a sigh, she stuffed her hands into her own pockets and hurried on her way.

* * *

The room was uncomfortably white and there was a young girl looking far too small in the bed closest to the window. She was wearing a navy knitted cap pulled down low over her ears and matching fingerless gloves. Loose fitted so to fit over the IV drips but made with the same thick material so to be warm. Clearly homemade, judging by the uneven edges and small holes where a stitch was missed in the gloves. Her eyes were closed and the light colored lashes barely stood out against her pale skin. She was asleep but her breathing was barely perceptible, her chest lifting minutely with every breath.

Crowley remained invisible at the girl's bedside as he looked down at her. The disease was ravaging this child's body at an alarming rate. Her life was slipping away and he didn't have to be a demon to see that it was only a matter of time before a Reaper appeared to her, if it wasn't on its way already.

"You better count your lucky stars, poppet."

Exhaling slowly, he brought his hand from his pocket and snapped his fingers. The sound barely finished and he felt the sickness dissipate, expelled completely from her body. Her chest suddenly heaved with a large breath as her lungs regained their full capacity and her eyes flew open as she abruptly woke up.

"Grace?"

Crowley looked over to see the older sister skidding to a stop, grabbing the edge of the door frame to keep from slipping. Boots still coated in snow and icy slush, her short, deep red hair blown every which way from the wind, sticking to her cheeks in multiple places. Clearly, she had come straight from the crossroad where they made their deal and stopped for nothing.

"Rosette?"

The young girl's voice was so soft, barely above a whisper, but Rosette was already across the room and at her bedside.

"How—how are you feeling?" she asked. The demon smirked at the sound of a tremor in her voice. She was doubting his ability? Oh ye of little faith.

Grace sat up further in the bed, lifting a hand to her chest as she took a few experimental breaths. All deep and even.

"I feel…good. Really good, actually."

The girl collapsed into the visitor's chair, shoulders shaking as she covered her face with her hands.

"Rose? You okay?" asked Grace, confused. Giving a quick sniff, she ran her hands through her hair, shoving it back and away from her face. Her blue eyes were shining with unshed tears and she gave a bright smile and watery chuckle.

"Yeah...yeah, I'm just happy."

Crowley found himself watching the two for an unnecessary moment, his eyes trained on his newest contract. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something different about her. Whether it was good or bad, he had yet to determine. His thumb brushed against his lips, his thoughts lingering on their kiss and the feeling of her being bound to him.

He would need to keep an eye on this soul.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Your thoughts would be loved! As a long-time fan of the show, I'm really excited to give writing for this fandom a try! Can't wait for the story to really get under way!**

 **Hope you enjoy!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Two**

* * *

November 13, 2009

Rochester, Illinois

* * *

"Rose, can you double check this for me?"

The diner was currently vacant due to the weather, the booths and tables empty with the exception of a high school girl sitting at the bar. Her bag was sitting in the chair beside her, schoolwork strewn out on the counter, a mug of steaming hot chocolate just off to the side. Her hair was more of a strawberry blonde and worn loose down her back, some strands curling near the bottom. She was dressed in a navy blue plaid skirt, black tights with equally dark shoes, a long sleeved white collar shirt, and a gray vest with the school logo emblazoned on the left side, clearly stating her high school status. She was tapping a pen as she stared down at her work, trying to make certain that the problem was done correctly.

"Yeah, what's up?"

The summoned person came out from the kitchen and stepped up to the bar, drying her hands on the small towel tucked into her apron that was tied around her waist. Her hair was still the same deep red but was now grown out and twisted back into a bun and away from her face. Her outfit was similar to her sister's in some regards as she was wearing a dark skirt and tights, her green long sleeve collared shirt sporting the diner's name on one side and her nametag on the other.

"Can you read over this for me? I think it makes sense but the subject's so stupid I really can't tell anymore," she sighed.

Rosette turned the notebook around as her little sister rested her forehead on her arms with a groan. Trying not to laugh at her dramatics, blue eyes skimmed the writing once and then twice to be certain.

"You guys are still on this chapter?" she asked. "I thought you did this last month?"

"We did!" exasperated Grace. "We're still on it because Mr. Woodworth works at a freakin' glacial pace! We have finals in a few weeks so you'd think he'd want to focus on that, but nooooo, let's stay here in this stupid chapter!"

Struggling to keep a straight face she asked, "Aren't you in AP?"

The answering deadpan look was enough to make the older girl snort with laughter.

"Cool it, I'm teasing," she laughed. "Your essay looks fine. You answered all that was asked, it's just the subject matter is about as dry as the desert which is why the words start to blur after a few lines."

"Tell me about it," she groaned in agreement. She flipped the book closed and opened up a new one, turning to a fresh page in her notebook to start the next assignment. "Can't wait until Thanksgiving break…"

Just as they were getting into a discussion of the potential family dynamics for Thanksgiving, of who would be there and which relative that would have to tolerate for the meal, there was a sudden sharp crash from the back of the kitchen. The two flinched before Rosette gave a groan, a roll of her eyes, and hollered back.

"Just can't have anything nice, can we?" Huffing in mild annoyance she turned back toward the back-of-house. "I'll be back in a minute…"

Shouldering the door open, she stepped into the kitchen and began to look for the source of the crash. She didn't see any sign of Brandon, the other coworker she was on shift with that night, and she knew the manager was in the office doing payroll. Her brow started to furrow when she realized that Brandon was back in the storeroom taking down inventory, thus nowhere near the pans that were on the drying rack. The sharp sound metal dishes clanging was a familiar and constant sound in the kitchen. There was the distinct sound of someone shuffling and the dishes rattled again.

Fearful adrenaline started to drip throughout her system and she stepped around so pass the grill and she quietly picked up one of the wide spatulas, just in case. Her hands dared to tremble as she slowly peeked around the tower of bun racks, a bead of sweat slipping down the back of her neck. _Please be nothing, please be nothing…_ she begged mentally.

Her heart gave a painful thump when she saw the strange man slumped against the three-basin sink. He was wearing a tan trench coat that was clearly worn, covered in dirt and scuff marks. His breathing was labored and he was on his knees, trying to use the sink to pull himself up.

When she saw the spots of blood on the tile floor she heard herself calling out to him.

"S-sir?"

He spun around, slipping back onto the floor and she felt her stomach drop to her toes when she saw the long silver blade in his hand.

"Easy—easy there, buddy," she stammered, holding out a hand. The one holding the spatula was still down by her side.

His brow creased deeply and he frowned.

"Why are you trembling?"

Her returning look was incredulous and confused. "Well, you did just show up out of nowhere in a place you're not supposed to be, lookin' pretty rough with a big ol' knife in your hand. Personally, that's enough for me to be concerned."

"I…see," he answered after a momentary pause.

His grip didn't lessen on the blade but his eyes were wandering around, almost as if he was just as confused as to how he arrived. Rosette wondered as well, since she knew that the door was programmed to beep every time it was opened. A fact she was acutely aware of because it drove her crazy during rush times when deliveries were being dropped off and the sound quickly became incessant. So the fact that this person appeared in their kitchen without setting off the door was making her more and more concerned.

"Is there…anyone I can call for you?" she offered tentatively. She didn't know what this person's situation was, if he was some kind of crazy guy that sneaked in or someone on the run. No matter the case, the weapon he was carrying was making her nervous. "Maybe someone who can pick you up?"

Stiffly, he managed to push himself to his feet and she quickly noted that he was considerably taller than her. Then again, most people were since she only stood at five foot six inches, but that didn't make it any less threatening that she was smaller than him.

"Yes. There is someone…I can call," he answered slowly. If the situation wasn't so surreal, she would've guessed that he sounded uncertain.

"Great, let's—let's give them a call," she encouraged. "Preferably before my manager finds out you're here."

He nodded as he reached into his pocket, fishing around for his phone. When he withdrew the device, she noticed that there was blood dripping from his hand.

"Oh—you're bleeding. Give me a second." She slipped the spatula into her apron and stepped away for a moment. Even though the situation was completely bizarre, she couldn't just ignore the fact that someone was hurt. She blamed it on the years of customer service and her own natural disposition, but she couldn't leave the injury alone. Plus, food and safety sanitation regulations.

His voice was low as he spoke to his friend and she couldn't quite make out the words. It only took a moment for her to come back with the standard kitchen medical equipment: antibacterial wipes, paper towels, and duct tape. Their first-aid kit was a basically Advil and a few band-aids. It was simply easier to fix things up with duct tape.

"What is that for?" he asked, eyeing her armful of less than professional items.

"Your arm," she answered. "Might as well be productive while your friend makes their way over." With a small smile, she gestured for him to sit on one of the short stainless steel tables that was used for extra space. He obliged, stiffly taking a seat. There was the sound of metal clattering as he set down the blade and the phone changed hands. Relief made her shoulders relax and she set her things down as well.

"Here," she said, holding out her hand expectantly. He looked at her with that same confused yet concerned expression, cellphone still open. The blood was dripping and she gingerly reached out and started to roll back the cuff of his coat. The cut was immediately apparent and she tore off a square of the paper towel and began to carefully clean.

"So…what's your name?" she asked softly. They couldn't let their voices travel too far, she honestly didn't have a good cover story as to why a stranger was in the back of the kitchen. Who knew what kind of trouble she would get into at this rate?

"I am Castiel."

The way he announced his name made her pause in her ministrations. For some unexplainable reason, she felt a sharp sensation run down her spine, her hair stand on end, and she dared to look up at him again. Eerily blue eyes were looking down at her with such intensity she felt as if he was staring right through her. Quickly, she busied herself with folding up the paper towels to craft a type of makeshift bandage and kept her eyes lowered.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Rose—"

Her words died in her mouth when she felt fingertips brush her forehead and everything vanished with the sound of wings.

* * *

Grace gave bored sigh, listlessly tapping her pen against her notebook. She was fed up with her homework for the night and tired of counting down until her older sister could finish her shift. She was staying the night at her apartment and she couldn't wait to unwind with their favorite shows, snacks, and to get caught up on what all was going on in both of their everyday lives.

Now that her sister was older and had her own place, Grace was sad that she didn't get to see her as often. Rose was still pretty active and present in her life though. She came to every volleyball game that she could, was there for her whenever there was an emotional upheaval in her life (Rose was still especially icy toward Josh McCombs, the boy who broke her heart freshman year), and never failed to make her feel better. Back when she was sick, her big sister was such a ray of sunshine when everything was so dire and frightening. She even cut her long hair so that it could be made it a wig for her since her own hair was falling out due to the treatments. Her own hair wasn't the same shade of red, Rose had the deep color like their dad while hers hade a mix of the red and their mother's blonde, but the gesture was so heartfelt that it still made her tear up a little just thinking about it.

Speaking of her sister, it had been a little while since she went to the back to figure out what had fallen. Not to mention that it was her clock-out time anyway, she should be finishing up. Hopping off the barstool, Grace made her way to the other side of the counter and slipped into the kitchen. She knew her way around the restaurant since she worked there the previous summer, but was too busy with sports and academics to hold regular hours during the school year, so the manager wouldn't have any issue with her being in the back-of-house.

The manager was still in the office doing paperwork but the kitchen was quiet. Listening, she could hear boxes being shuffled around which meant that inventory was being done. She stood on her tiptoes to see around the machines and she couldn't see anyone. When she got to the back there was still no one. Worry start to gnaw at her and she saw that there were dishes that had been knocked from the drying rack, some floating in the sanitation basin while a few had landed on the ground. What was strange was that they were still on the ground, Rose would've had everything cleaned up by now.

When she saw the blood on the floor, her heart gave a hard lurch.

"R-Rose?" she managed to squeak out. Palms sweating, she made her way to the back to check the inventory room and there was only Brandon. She hurried through the kitchen again and peeked in the manager's office, where the employer was alone pouring over paperwork. Next, she dashed through the dining area and checked the restrooms, thinking maybe she just missed her by chance. The areas were all vacant.

Pulse now pounding noisily under her skin, she all but sprinted to the back door and threw it open, the small beep sounding off. The employee parking lot only had the three vehicles, including her sister's blue compact car and there were no footprints leading out from the building.

Her breathing quickened and she could feel her eyes prick with tears as she cried out.

" _Rose!_ "

* * *

The world suddenly exploded back into focus and Rosette gasped for air, finding herself on the ground. Clutching her chest, she was relieved to feel her heart hammering. Okay, so she wasn't dead. Thank god. That was certainly a plus. She couldn't but groan as she felt her stomach roll.

"Cas, what the hell?!" came a gruff voice. "It's one thing for you to pop up, but a little warning when there's a plus one would be nice."

"I had to act quickly."

She had to blink a few times as she fought the wave of nausea and it became apparent that she was in some type of motel room. There was Castiel and two other men in the small room. The two were even taller than the stranger she met and she felt unbelievably small, especially with her current position on the floor. The television stand was right next to her and she used it to shakily get to her feet. A strange weight tugged at her apron and she glanced down to see the handle of the spatula peeking out. That made her feel a little better, so she could at least smack the hell out of someone if she needed to.

"Act quickly? Castiel, you kidnapped a person!" exclaimed the big one.

"She's one of his contracts, it should be enough to bring him out of hiding," he explained, his voice level. "We don't have a lot of time and the opportunity presented itself. We still need the last two rings and any kind of leverage we have to take."

The two looked past Castiel and she stiffened as their gaze weighed heavily on her. Gone was the upset over the sudden situation and now she could practically see them mulling over Castiel's words.

"Wh-where am I?" she managed to squeak out. "Who are you?"

They exchanged a look and the one with the gruff voice spoke up first.

"I'm Dean and this is my brother Sam. You've met Castiel already." She nodded in agreement, unable to keep from sending the blue eyed man a look of hurt betrayal. She was trying to do a nice thing and now she was in this predicament.

"Currently, we're in west Nevada."

She snapped her gaze up at his words, face paling as she yelped, "Wait—Nevada? How the hell could we be in Nevada—I was just in Illinois!"

"Yeah, sorry about that," he sighed, sending a pointed look to Castiel. "Cas doesn't really give a warning when he zaps somebody."

He sighed and turned to face her. When his foot picked up as if to approach her, she whipped the spatula out from her apron and held it in front of her defensively.

"Don't come near me!" she croaked. "I'll smack you so hard you'll wish you left me well-enough alone."

"I am not going to hurt you," he explained calmly, his voice still level as he slowly lifted his hand, the palm facing her. "I'm placing a mark on your soul."

This time she could physically feel the color drain from her face.

"Wh-what?" she stammered. Her heart began to pound again. "I don't know who the hell you think you are—"

Dean gave a hard sigh. "He's an angel."

She glanced back at him, her mouth going dry. He continued when she kept her silence. "I know it sounds crazy but it's the absolute truth. You don't have to believe us, but given everything's that's happened so far you don't really have any room to argue."

Now shaking more than before, she looked back at the proclaimed angel. His name was Castiel and she knew very well that the ending of his name, the "—iel" meant "of God". Her education was through the Catholic school system and she grew up hearing about angels, soldiers of God.

But after Grace got sick…

"I didn't think angels existed…" she admitted softly. She lowered the spatula slowly and returned it to her apron. She didn't feel as if she could be properly riled up against him now. In fact, he probably hated her just on principle alone. She was a human who sold her soul away, she had to be nothing more than trash to him now.

His eyes seemed to brighten and she quickly closed her own, just in case. She gave a sharp gasp when there was a concentration of searing heat coming from her sternum that lasted a split second.

"Wh-what was that?" she asked, carefully bringing her hand to her chest. It didn't hurt but she could feel the lingering heat.

"I've inscribed some Enochian sigils," he said. "If this goes poorly or you try to run away, we can find you."

Chilling guilt mixed with fear creeped into her and she found herself unable to argue with him.

There was the sound of wings again and she looked up to see that Castiel was gone, the space where he stood so perfectly vacant it was like he wasn't there in the first place. If it weren't for the strange warmth coming from her chest and that she was in an unfamiliar place with people she didn't know, she would've thought she imagined the whole exchange. Everything that was happening was so much more than she could ever dream up on her own, which was the only thing that kept her from declaring lunacy and insisting that she was dreaming.

Dean sighed again after a moment.

"Castiel, ever the conversationalist." He picked up a duffle bag and threw it over his shoulder. "Well, let's hit the road, Sammy."

The taller one looked uncertainly from his brother and back to her. Shuffling, he grabbed his own bag and looked to her again.

"What's your name?" he asked kindly. The sincere tone helped her shoulders relax and she softly answered.

"Rosette Herondale."

He nodded and stepped closer, offering his hand. "Sam Winchester."

Giving a weak smile, she accepted his handshake.

"I know this is all must be weird for you, but I just want you to understand that we're not here to hurt you. And Castiel—it's just that we've got so much to do and not enough time."

She nodded in agreement with a quiet, "Thanks."

Wordlessly, she followed him outside where Dean was throwing his bag into the trunk of an old, black Chevy Impala. A rather distinct car, she noted. Sam threw his bag in next and closed the lid as Dean made his way to the driver's seat. The taller brother gave her one more reassuring look before he took his place in the passenger's seat. Hands shaking, she grabbed the door handle and slipped into the backseat behind Dean. She clicked the seatbelt into place and clasped her hands together in attempt to stop the shaking.

Well, it wasn't as if she had that much longer anyway. Might as well do something dangerous for once.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Your thoughts would be lovely as always! Sorry for the delay, but I promise I'm already working on the next chapter so don't worry! Rosette has officially had her "first five minutes in a Supernatural episode" which led to her being taken by an angel due to her soul being a neon "Sold to Crowley" sign. Sorry for the lack of Crowley but that will be immediately fixed next chapter ;)**

 **Next time: Demons, Winchester-level trouble, and Hellhounds.**

" **I believe you have something of mine."**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Three**

* * *

Living dangerously might have been an exaggeration of a thought.

The car ride had been relatively quiet, the radio playing some classic rock at a moderate volume, and they had been on the road for hours. Conversation had been pretty minimal between the brothers but she could barely listen, her mind busy trying to process everything that had happened that evening. Should she call home, or at least Grace to explain what happened? Then she would have to explain angels and in particular why Castiel honed in on her soul specifically. She couldn't tell her what she did nearly ten years ago. She couldn't put that on her. How long would she be away from home? What kind of story could make up to cover everything? Say she did tell the truth, it was so far-fetched, who would really believe her?

With all of her thoughts buzzing around without end, her body finally took pity on her and she was soon fast asleep, her head resting against the cool window pane.

Sam looked over his shoulder to see Rosette fast asleep in the backseat before looking back at his brother who was currently on the phone with Bobby discussing Pestilence, one of the Four Horsemen. They had just left the most recent town he had touched down in, the clue that drew them in being the random outbreak in swine flu. Even though they drove through the night to get there, he was long gone by the time they arrived. It was like they were three steps behind him every time.

" _Did you get anything? We got even a snowball at a probable next target_ "

The brothers shared a look.

"Uh, no pattern that we can see," answered Sam.

Bobby could be heard sighing over the speakerphone. " _Okay. Hold on."_ There was a pause and they could hear the squeak of the wheelchair move as he most likely made his way to another surface scattered with books. " _Well, as far as I can tell, he's still heading east. So…head east, I guess._ "

"East?" they chorused, looking at each other incredulously.

"Bobby, we're in west Nevada. East is practically all there is," said Dean.

" _Yeah, well, you better get to drivin'._ " There was a click as the older hunter hung up the phone.

"We didn't even get to tell him about Castiel's, um, executive decision," mentioned Sam, nodding his head toward the sleeping girl.

"Yeah, didn't really know how to bring that one up," sighed Dean, dropping the phone beside his seat. "I figure, we hit Illinois on our way east and drop her off if nothing happens. That way Cas's plan has a little time to potentially work, then when it doesn't, she'll be back home with minimal emotional scarring."

A new voice filled the Impala, the smooth and mocking tone undeniable.

"Say…I've got an idea."

Both whipped around to see the demon Crowley sitting next to the unconscious Rosette. Green eyes set in a glare, Dean slammed on the brakes and turned the wheel hard to the right. The wheels locked and squealed, the car sliding sideways and Sam pulled out the demon knife without a moment's hesitation, lunging over the back of his seat.

The blade slipped harmlessly into the upholstery, Rosette now awake and staring wide at Sam, clutching her seatbelt for dear life.

"Did you get him?" demanded Dean, looking over his shoulder.

"He's gone," growled Sam.

Rosette's voice managed to speak up next as the car rocked to a stop. "What the _hell_ is happening?!"

There was a knock at the window and all three of them flinched at the sound. The demon bent down to look through the window.

"Fancy a fag and a chat?"

Rosette could've sworn she heard Sam growl and the three of them quickly got out of the car, the doors creaking with the action. It was late at night and rain was sprinkling but no one paid it any mind. Sam and Dean were making strong strides towards the well-dressed demon who was quickly backing up.

"Oh, you're upset. We should talk about it. Not here, but—"

This time she knew she didn't imagine the growl in Sam's voice. The anger was nearly palpable it made her skin crawl in apprehension.

"You want to talk? After what you did to us?"

"After what I—after what _I_ did to _you_?!" repeated Crowley in disbelief. "I gave you the Colt!"

"Yeah, and you knew it wouldn't work against the Devil!"

"I would never!"

"You set us up!" continued Sam, stepping closer. "We lost people on that suicide run—good people!"

Rosette felt a stab of empathy as she listened to the hurt in Sam's voice. She recognized the anger and distraught at losing someone close to you. Tentatively, she tried to step forward.

"Who you take on the ride is your own business!" snapped Crowley. He took a breath. "Look, everything is still the same. W-we're all still in this together."

"Sure we are."

Rosette let out a startled yelp as Sam lunged forward with a vicious upward swing of the knife. She just managed to stumble back and Sam missed crashing into her since the space where Crowley was standing was suddenly empty.

An arm braced her from falling completely backwards and goosebumps broke out when she heard his voice speak up just to her right. She could feel the increase of heat in the air and his breath brushed her ear, he was so close.

"Call off your dog—please."

Sam made to swipe at him again and Dean, thankfully, grabbed his arm and he jerked to a stop. The shorter brother turned his calculating glare toward them, focusing just past her. Crowley was barely out of her peripheral vision and his hand was still lingering on her back, making her skin warm at the touch. It didn't go unnoticed by her that she was acting as a makeshift shield of sorts.

"Give me one good reason," instructed Dean.

He paused and she could feel him take a breath.

"I can give you Pestilence."

She guessed that was the right thing to say because Dean suddenly looked more serious. Sam, on the other hand, still looked ready to jump into a fight which made her shift nervously.

"What do you know about Pestilence?"

This time she could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I know how to get to him." A pause. "That's got your interest, doesn't it?"

Dean was quiet for a moment and Sam turned his attention to his brother when he didn't say anything.

"Are you actually listening to this?" he demanded.

"Sam—"

"Are you friggin' nuts?!"

"Shut up for a second, Sam!"

Her attention flickered back to Crowley, who was now standing beside her rather than behind. She fought a shiver as his hand trailed away, slipping back into his coat pocket as his energy seemed to flare up in agitation.

"Shut up, the both of you!" snapped Crowley. The brothers stopped their arguing and turned to look at him. "Look…I swear…I thought the Colt would work. It's an honest mistake. It's all part of the learning process."

Rosette kept her gaze carefully on Sam. His murderous intent was still apparent and it set her on edge.

"But nothing's changed. I still want the Devil dead," Crowley continued. "Well… _one_ thing's changed. Now the Devil _knows_ I want him dead which, by the way, makes me the most buggard son in all creation."

Dean couldn't have rolled his eyes any harder. "Holy crap. We don't care."

"They burnt down my house!" snapped Crowley.

Their expressions didn't change.

"They _ate_ my tailor!"

Dean rolled his eyes again and Rosette kept looking at the three, trying to wrap her head on just what the _hell_ was happening. Pestilence? Killing the Devil? _The_ Devil? Devil with a capital "D"? As in, Lucifer, the fallen angel?

"Two months under a rock, like a bloody salamander!" raged Crowley, his volume raising. "Every demon on hell and earth's got his out of for me! And now, you've nicked one of my contracts and here I am…last place I should be—in the road, talking to Sam and Dean Winchester—under a friggin' spotlight!"

He brought his hand up at pointed his index finger at the offending street light and it exploded, glass and sparks raining down. Blue eyes wide, Rosette looked from the now dark light and back to the demon who was releasing a breath, a little less on edge now that the light was gone.

Sam and Dean seemed less than impressed as they waited for Crowley to continue. He exhaled sharply.

"So come with me." He looked to Sam and gave a sneer. "Please."

They still didn't say anything. Dean not looking away and Rosette didn't dare say a word or even move for that matter. Everything was so tense she didn't want to risk upsetting it.

Crowley sighed again. "Do you want the Horsemen rings or not?"

When Dean straightened at his words, the demon rolled his eyes.

"Yes, I know all about that. Shall we?"

There seemed to be an unspoken agreement as Sam rolled his shoulders before slipping the jagged knife back into the interior of his jacket. With a huff, Dean started walking back to the car and Sam grudgingly followed. Releasing a breath she didn't realize she was holding, Rosette started back to the Impala as well.

Another hand appeared on the handle and the door was opened for her. Stunned by the speed, she quickly looked up to see Crowley right beside her. His hazel eyes were locked on her and she was still for a moment, meeting his gaze straight on. His mouth twitched into a smirk and his voice was low.

"After you, darling."

* * *

 _January 1, 2001_

 _The house had finally fallen quiet, everyone who had come over for the New Year's Eve party having gone home. Her family was asleep, the sound of her dad snoring loudly had never been so reassuring before as she slipped downstairs. Doing her best to be as quiet and stealthy, she made her way down to the basement, skipping the one near the bottom that always squeaked. Looking back to make sure the door at the top of the stairs were closed, she reached into the space between the staircase and the wall and withdrew an old backpack from junior high._

 _Pushing back some of the furniture, she laid out the cloth she had painted the sigil on and laid it out flat. Her heart was beating fast as she set up the candles, making certain that everything was lined up perfectly. She knew there was no room for error because there was no telling what would happen if she messed up. Next, she pulled out a bowl from the bag and began mixing the ingredients carefully, double and even triple checking her work with the handful of books she had laid out._

 _Throughout the course of the year she had been working on reading up on as much demon lore as she could possibly get her hands on. Her laptop history was full of dark reading material and she had to be careful to clear everything and gives files she saved normal sounding titles. Sometimes her laptop would be used by another family member, since it technically belonged to the family and she just used it the most, it would be very suspicious if she started acting weird about others being on it._

 _She was right to ask for the demon's name, the importance of a name was stated multiple times in her readings. If she was too vague she had too high of a chance of calling upon a random demon who could lie and take advantage of her. It was too risky. That was why she threw herself into research and studying as much as she could about anything demon or otherworldly related. Her family thought she was just being more focused than usual about her studies and that acted as the perfect cover._

 _To be honest, what she was trying to do was something so miniscule and potentially very stupid as well as dangerous. It wasn't something she rea about but she felt it was something she had to do. God help her, if God was even there._

 _Nearing the end, she had to slip back upstairs to grab a few more things from the kitchen, carefully listening for any creaks that would indicate that anyone was awake and moving. She hurried back downstairs and knelt down in front of her makeshift summoning, checking over everything one last time. Once the last ingredient was added, that was it, she couldn't remove it or try again._

 _Her heart was racing hard against her ribcage and she couldn't keep her hands from shaking completely. She took a deep breath through her nose, gathering up all of her courage and she worked off the Claddagh ring she always wore on her left ring finger, and then picked up the kitchen knife. It would be easier to cut her palm but that would be too big of a mark and she couldn't think of a convincing story to cover the injury. Her mom would know that something was up, not to mention that she didn't like lying to her parents and the guilt would eat her alive and she would cave eventually. This way, if the cut was smaller and under the ring, the ring could be reasonably blamed if it was ever noticed. Not that it would, the mark would be fairly small._

 _Jaw clenched, she took another breath and placed the edge of the blade against her skin and carefully applied pressure. She inhaled with a sharp hiss as the metal bit into her skin easily and she held her hand over the bowl as she finished a half moon shape cut under her finger. The blood dripped steadily into the bowl, one drop at a time. She was quick to clean the blade and patch up her finger, and then she reached for the box of matches and pulled one of the open books closer to her._

 _Palms sweaty and heart racing so hard she was becoming concerned, she shakily picked the matchbox and prepped the match against the strip. There was a small hiss as the head lit up and she held it over the bowl. She cleared her throat and read aloud from the passage. She practiced so hard to make sure she was saying everything correctly. Again, she couldn't risk being wrong._

"… _Et ad congregandum…eos coram me."_

 _With the incantation said, she dropped the match into the bowl and it immediately sparked. Worried, she quickly lunged for the staircase to put some distance between her and the bowl, just in case. Holding onto the railing and sitting on the step, she kept her gaze trained on the ritual set, anxiety racking her body as she waited._

" _You've certainly been busy."_

 _The voice came from right behind her and she flinched terribly, whirling around at the sound and she tried to step back, momentarily forgetting that she was on the stairs. There was the feeling of falling and she squeezed her eyes shut, body tense to prepare for the crash._

 _She came to a sudden halt and she felt a wave of heat wash over her. Tentatively, she dared to open her eyes and she felt her heart give a hard jump. The demon Crowley was leaning over her, one arm around her back to keep her from falling, and smirking all the while. He was still dressed smartly in all black, the coat was even the same from before._

" _And just what business do you have with me, darling?" he asked silkily. "It's awfully foolish of you to summon a demon so directly."_

 _She was finding it hard to breathe with him looking at her so intensely with those hazel eyes. It took considerable effort to work her voice again._

" _I-I…well, you-you said no one ever just summons you for tea…"_

 _His smirk faltered and he blinked at her words. His gaze flickered from her and he spotted the little tea kettle off to the side of the ritual, still steaming and sitting beside two awaiting mugs._

" _And…and I wanted to say thank you…"_

* * *

The car ride was silent and thankfully short. The air was so thick with tension Rosette didn't want to even breathe out of fear of upsetting someone. It didn't take long for them to arrive at the destination, which was a very run down shack of a home.

Crowley led the way and opened the door with a sigh.

"Here we are—my life on the lam. How the mighty have fallen. Single-pane glass, used contraception in the fireplace." He withdrew a hand from his pocket and the stone fireplace flared to life with a wave of his hand. "The water damage alone—"

Dean cut him off, annoyed with the rant. "My heart's bleeding for you," he deadpanned. "Now, how do you know about the rings?"

"Well, now…" his lips teased a small smirk for just a moment. "I've been keeping a close eye on you lot."

"We got hex bags. We're hidden from demons," argued Sam. His eyes were still narrowed in anger and Rosette took one extra step away in precaution. She saw how quick his reflexes were with the knife earlier.

"All but one," countered Crowley, holding up one finger to point at himself. "That night you broke into my house, our first date, my valet hid a tracking device in your car—a magical coin that easily trumps your little bag o' bones. It allows me to hear things, too—and, my, the things I've heard."

His eyes shifted over to Rosette for a moment before continuing.

"So you want to cram the Devil back in the box?" he clicked his tongue at that. "Cunning scheme. I want in."

There was silence at his words.

"You said you could get us Pestilence."

Crowley inhaled sharply through his teeth. "Well now…I don't know where Pestilence is…per se…"

Rosette's brow knitted in confusion. Then why bring them out to his hiding place then?

"…but I do know the demon who _does_ ," he continued. "He's what you might call the Horsemen's stable boy. He handles their itineraries, their personal needs. He's who you want—believe me. He'll tell us where Sneezy's at."

"Well, how do we get him to spill?" asked Dean. "Rip out his toenails?"

"No," he grimaced. "Nuts at his pay grade don't crack. We bring him here, then I sell him."

"Sell him?"

Her voice sounded strangely small and the brothers turned to look at her, most likely forgetting that she was even there while Crowley smirked.

"I'm a salesman, darling," he winked before the boys looked at him again. "I've sold sin to saints for centuries. Think I can't close one little demon?"

"All right. So where's this demon of yours?" asked Dean.

"Ah, before we get to that…"

The demon's eyes hardened and his sly grin tightened. "Which of you would care to explain why my contract is here and covered in your angel's chicken scratch?"

"After what _you_ did to us," spoke up Sam, his voice still a rumble and he stepped so that she was shielded from view, "it was decided that we needed to have something of yours to even the playing field the next time we saw you."

"And you thought kidnapping a contract of mine would be sufficient?" he laughed, cocking a brow. "You must be getting desperate, but I'll bite. Keep her if you must. I'll take you to Pestilence's handler regardless."

Rosette felt her stomach drop at his words and she did her best not to flinch.

With everyone in agreement, the boys headed back out to the car and the girl made to follow them, but she stumbled to a halt when Crowley suddenly appeared in front her. She nearly collided into him, brushing against his jacket as she tried to pull herself back.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice unusually low.

She blinked owlishly at the question. "Wh-what?"

"Are you hurt?" he repeated firmly. "I can see the angel's marks all over you."

Glancing down to double check herself, she didn't see anything out of the ordinary and was just about to say so when he sighed and snapped his fingers. There was a flash of searing heat and it felt like her skin was being lit on fire—

The heat stopped when Crowley snatched her wrist and brought her arm up to eye level. He pushed down her sleeve and her eyes widened at the all the writing that was now covering her skin. There was text burned in black and then there were numerous blinding white symbols blazed over the words. He growled at the sight of the sigils and his grip tightened on her wrist making her wince.

"Bloody angel…"

At the sound of Sam and Dean returning, he snapped his fingers again and the writing faded away and he was back at his previous spot, creating distance between them. Each one carried a bag and they made their way to the back of the home without saying a word to either of them. There was the squeak of a door and she could already hear Sam whispering urgently to Dean. The house was so run down, it wasn't like there was any proper insulation to keep their voices from traveling. Not that Sam was trying very hard to be subtle.

"Why are we listening to him, Dean? This is totally insane."

"I don't disagree."

Crowley rolled his eyes at the two and made his way over to the back room. Rosette quickly followed him, not wanting to be left alone. Who knew what would happen? At the rate her evening was going, she didn't want to take the risk.

Crowley clapped his hands together to get their attention to which Sam responded with a glare.

"One big happy family, are we, then? Fantastic."

Dean clearly wasn't amused. "You ready to go?"

"Yes. Yes. I am." He sighed. "Sam, keep the home fires burning."

The three humans all tensed at that, turning to look at the demon. Dean was quick to speak up, "What are you talking about?"

"Sam's not coming," he answered simply.

Sam's answering expression stated just how not okay he was with that statement. "And why the hell not?"

"Because I don't like you…" He stepped closer. "I don't trust you…and—oh yes—you keep trying to kill me."

"There's no damn way. This isn't going to happen!"

"I'm not asking you, am I? 'Cause you're not invited." He looked past him to Dean. "I'm asking _you_. What's it gonna be?"

There was a pregnant pause as Sam looked from Crowley to Dean and back to Crowley. The unsaid messaged was well-received as he scoffed.

"Gentlemen…Enjoy your last few sunsets."

He turned his back and used his left arm to turn Rosette with him so that she was walking beside him. She caught sight of an amused expression and immediately became wary as he continued to speak. "This way, darling. Let's get you back to where you should be…"

There was a stammer and then—

"Wait."

They came to a halt and she saw him smirk at the call. He didn't fully turn around, only glancing over his shoulder.

"I'll go."

She peeked as well and frowned at the confused look Sam was giving his brother. Dean tried to reassure him.

"What can I say? I believe the guy."

"Don't be too sad, Sam. You'll have company," taunted Crowley. He spun Rosette around so that she was facing the tallest Winchester. "You can gossip and braid each other's hair. It'll be a grand ol' time."

With that said, the door was slammed closed and the two were left alone in the rickety house. A couple of seconds of silence ticked by before the girl pointedly cleared her throat, desperate to try and lift the mood somewhat.

"So…Horsemen wear rings?"

* * *

A few hours later and Rosette's head was buzzing again with new information and she took another deep drink of alcohol. Luckily, the fridge was stocked with a small assortment of beverages. She needed something a little stronger.

Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. The end of the world. Monster hunting. Demon exorcising. Two brothers doing their best to fight every dark thing and save everyone they could along the way. And here she thought her impending contact end date was the biggest thing to worry about. On the plus side, Sam seemed a little less wound up after venting about everything.

She was just about to return the favor and explain how she knew Crowley when there was the sound of a car engine approaching and they both stiffened at the sound. The bottles clinked as they left them sitting on the ground and hurried up to the boarded windows. The engine cut out and the doors squeaked open. Through the spaces in the boards, she could make out the figures of Dean and Crowley and then they dragged another person out from the backseat. She heard Sam exhale sharply and she tried to give a reassuring smile.

"Looks like they made it back just fine."

He didn't answer, only giving a short nod before making his way downstairs. Only a few steps behind him, she was able to see around him on the staircase and she spotted Crowley waiting at the bottom.

"Where's Dean?" demanded Sam.

He barely glanced at him before sighing. "Now…for the record, I'm against this. Negotiating a high-level defection—it's very delicate business."

Sam made to move into the next room but was blocked. Now he huffed.

"What are you talking about?"

"I begged Dean not to come back. We should be miles away…from _you_ ," he said. "He replied with a colorful rejoinder about my "corn chute"."

Sam couldn't help but scoff.

"So, go ahead. Go—ruin our last best hope." Nothing was said as the taller Winchester stepped past him and Crowley muttered. "It's only the end of the world."

Rosette made her way down the last few steps once Sam disappeared into the next room.

"Is everything all right?" she asked. "Are you okay?" She couldn't keep her concern out of her tone and Crowley smirked at the sound.

"Were you worried, darling? I'm touched, really," he teased. She tried to glare but her flush in embarrassment negated the stern effect she was going for and she settled with looking away.

"Now then, since the Hardy Boys are busy, let's get you home."

Her body couldn't help but flinch at his words and she quickly faced him again. Loose strands freed themselves from her bun and she hurriedly shoved them away as she found her voice. Her pulse quickened at the thought of going home. She could come up with some kind of story to cover up a handful of unaccounted for hours. The timeline was still reasonable. She could work with that.

"Y-you can do that?"

He raised an amused brow as he stepped closer to her.

"Always with the doubt."

"It's not doubt—I-I'm just surprised," she stammered and gave a shrug. "I sometimes forget how much you can do…"

"Well," he reached out and brushed back the remaining loose strands of hair, tucking it behind her ear. "I'll have to make more of an impression then."

Heat dared to crawl up the back of her neck and she quickly closed her eyes to try to will her composure back under control. She was always so easily flustered by him and he knew it. Plus her fair skin coupled with her red hair made any kind of color change obvious. Blushing was her constant battle, especially back when she was in school.

"Until next time, darling."

There was the snap of his fingers and she held her breath.

A moment passed and so she dared to open one eye. She was greeted with the sight of the run-down home and Crowley still standing in front of her, hand still raised from the snap.

"Um…"

A small yelp escaped her when Crowley suddenly stepped right up to her, eyes blazing as he seemed to stare right through her. His hand hovered just over her heart and she stayed perfectly still. Wide blue eyes watched as his expression shifted from annoyed to properly irritate.

There was a sudden burst of noise and the brothers came barging back in, Dean dragging Sam.

"That's enough!" snapped Dean. Sam stumbled when Dean released him, the empty bottles on the floor scattering when he stumbled into them.

"Get out of my way!"

"No."

"Get out of my way, Dean."

Confused and worried, Rosette quickly looked to Crowley for an answer, to which the demon sighed. "The Horsemen's stable boy is an old school friend of his that introduced him to his now-dead girlfriend."

Her jaw dropped. "That's awful!"

"So I've heard."

Dean didn't seem to hear them as he continued trying to calm Sam down.

"There is only one way to win, and it ain't by killing that thing in there."

Crowley took that as his cue and stepped forward with an exhausted sigh, sparing the two an annoyed glare. "Well…sounds like you've got him nice and fluffed. Thanks so much."

He stepped into the room with the captured demon and Dean turned his attention back to Sam.

"Listen to me. We need Pestilence to get at the Devil, and we need Brady to get to Pestilence."

Sam huffed. "Why? Because _Crowley_ said so? Because we trust him now? Like I trusted Ruby? Or like I trusted Brady back at school?"

Timidly, Rosette decided to step forward.

"I-if you'd like a third party opinion," she spoke up, "and from someone who's just getting the crash course on all of this, it seems like since you have the same goal—getting the Horsemen's rings to stop the end of the world and all—that in this kind of scenario calls for the whole "enemy of my enemy is my friend" sort of alliance…"

The two stared hard at her for a moment and she could feel her face coloring again. It was probably the most they heard her say all evening. She cleared her throat awkwardly.

"What-what I'm saying is…you just have to work together for a short time. Plus, you guys have me as a bargaining chip, right?" She took a breath. "I-I'm not much, but I'd like to be of any help that I can…"

She could've sworn she saw Dean give her a slight smile in appreciation as he clapped his brother on the shoulder, making him flinch.

"There you go. It's just like she said, so just give it a chance."

* * *

The door creaked open and Rosette started at the sound, blearily looking around. She had curled up on the far side of the couch and, apparently, dozed off. It was late, she was exhausted, and the moment she was still long enough, her body promptly switched off. The undercurrent of worry and anxiety was what kept her alert enough to wake up at the sharp sound.

Crowley stepped back into the room, not looking particularly pleased.

"How'd it go?" asked Dean, a beer in one hand. "He buy your Girl Scout cookies?"

"Not yet," he answered shortly. Glancing around, his eyes narrowed slightly. "Where's your moose?"

Confused, it took her a moment for her to realize that Sam was not in the room with them. Her concerned flared but was quickly banked when she noted that Dean didn't look worked up, and he clearly knew his brother better. So, if he wasn't worried, she would stay calm too.

"He's cooling off," he answered, taking a drink.

"All right then," said Crowley, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Get bent."

She immediately sat upright as he started to turn away, the panic making her wide-awake and she called out.

"Wait—you're leaving?"

"Well, he won't budge," he sighed, gesturing to the room where Brady was being kept. "So now I go stick my neck out."

"What do you mean?" she asked at the same time Dean asked, "What're you gonna do?"

"Exactly the kind of desperate swashbuckle I was trying to avoid," he explained. "Now I go kick open a hive of demons."

"You—what?"

"It's just as much fun as it sounds, darling," he said with a frown. He spared Dean one last look.

"This whole bloody ring business better work."

She only blinked and he was gone. Worry gnawing at her at full tilt, she looked over to see Dean sinking into the armchair with a tired sigh. She opened her mouth to try and say something reassuring, but her mind was blank as he held his face in his hands. So, she settled for quietly sitting still, lacing her fingers together and praying for the best.

A short while later, Dean walked out of the living room and she didn't think anything of it until she suddenly heard banging on the door and his voice was muffled but still loud enough for her to hear.

"Sam, come on! Open the door! Sam!"

She was immediately on her feet, heart pounding. Wasn't Sam supposed to be cooling off? What was happening?

"Damn it, Sam! Don't do this!" shouted Dean.

Her mind worked furiously as she scanned the room. Dean didn't go upstairs which meant that Sam was on the main floor with her. If he was still raging mad at the demon that's their captive, she would bet her wages that he was heading back into the room to finish him off.

Steeling her nerves and ignoring every warning bell her mind was ringing, she hurled herself into the other room with her spatula in hand.

The first thing she noticed was the bloody business man tied to a chair, centered in the middle of some sort of seal that was drawn onto the floor. Next, was the suddenly hulking figure of Sam Winchester that was standing in the other doorway right across from her. Third, was the jagged knife from before was back in his hand.

"Well, here we go," drawled Brady, not even glancing back at Sam. "We doing last words or no?"

"Sophomore year, huh?" asked Sam. His glare was still focused on the hostage and despite her want to be quiet, she knew she had to speak up.

"S-Sam, don't—don't do this," she pleaded.

Brady chuckled, the sound a bit garbled from his injures most likely. "Brady, here was a good kid. Straight arrow. I mean, your best friend, really. Perfect point of access."

She felt a flash of irritation as Sam's focus fell back to the demon and his anger did nothing but flare. Clenching her teeth, she pointed her spatula threateningly at the captive.

"Hey now, you shut your trap!" she scolded. "Sam—!"

"Thanksgiving," guessed Sam, not even reacting to her.

He gave a grin. "Yes sir. Remember when I came back from break all messed up—dropped out of pre-med, the drugs, the bitches? That was the new Brady. That was _me_."

"Sam, he's just trying to wind you up!" she argued, her voice raising.

"Remember how much time you spent trying to get me back on the right track? You really were a good friend," he said. Sam's mouth was a tight line and she could see him adjusting his grip on the knife. "But ol' yellow eyes didn't send me back to be your friend. No, we could tell we were starting to lose you. You were becoming a mild-mannered, worthless sack of piss. Now, come on. We couldn't have that. You were our favorite!"

His voice became softer but the words were sharp enough to cut.

"So I hooked you up with a pure, sweet, innocent piece of tail. And then I toasted her on the ceiling." He grinned as Sam struggled to keep his breathing even. "That's right—Azazel might have put the hit out on Jessica, but, man, _I_ got to have all the fun! Did you know? She thought we were friends too. Let me right in. She was baking cookies."

He broke out in laughter again. "She was so surprised—!"

There was the suddenly the resounding sound of metal against skin and silence fell in its wake.

Brady's head was snapped the side and he wore a stark red imprint of a square on the left side of his face. Body trembling and breathing ragged, Rosette lowered her arms and mustered up as much force into her voice as she could, still holding tight to her spatula with both hands.

"I _said_ , to keep your trap _shut_."

Stepping out of the circle, she turned back to Sam, who was now no longer glaring with murderous intent but honest surprise instead. She used her firm voice on him as well, trying not to shake.

"And _you_ —go get your brother. I don't care how tall you are—I'll smack you too if needed," she warned, pointing the spatula as menacingly as possible. "I am not having it today! It's already been weird enough!"

After a moment, he nodded. "I'll go get Dean."

As soon as he left the room Brady started to laugh again, the sound low in his throat.

"Well, aren't _you_ interesting…"

She bristled at his tone and raised her weapon of choice. "Boy, do you want a matching set?"

Before he could retort, the brothers stormed back into the room and a smooth voice was suddenly heard. They all flinched and turned to see Crowley looking like he just got out of a fight with his coat shrugged off, the breast pocket nearly torn off, and his suit jacket was ripped at the shoulder.

"God. The day I've had."

Rosette carefully watched him strut into the room with his usual confidence. It was so strange to see him scuffed up. Every time she saw him he was always so put together, not a line out of place. Even though his appearance was disheveled, he still had the air about him like he held all of the cards.

"Good news. You're going to live forever," he chuckled.

"What did you do?" groaned Brady. Crowley circled the symbol on the floor, sharp eyes watching him.

"Went over to a demon's nest—had a little massacre. Must be losing my touch though—let one of the little toads live. Oops." He clicked his tongue in mock disappointment. "Also might have given said toad the impression that you left your post last night because you and I are—wait for it—lovers in league against Satan."

Brady's falling expression made him smirk.

"Hello, darling."

Brady kept his mouth pressed in a firm line as he glared while Crowley continued. "So, now that death is off the table. Now you get to be on the boss's eternal-torment list with little old me."

He hung his head and began to mutter. "Oh no, no, no, no, no."

"Something else we have in common—apart from our torrid passion, of course—craven self-preservation," said Crowley. "So, now, why don't you tell me where Pestilence is at?"

A stubborn moment passed where neither demon said a thing, then just when Brady opened his mouth to speak there was a shift in the atmosphere and a low, guttural growl filled the air.

Rosette didn't think it was possible to taste fear, but there it was, settling on her tongue. Her body felt like it was dosed in cold dread and judging by everyone's facial expression, she had every right to be terrified. What on earth could make a sound, or could make a person feel like death was breathing right down their necks?

The growl changed to a snarl and the delicate hairs on her body lifted with the unnatural energy.

Brady was the first to break the silence. "Oh, god, Crowley."

"Was that a Hellhound?" asked Dean. She felt her heart contract sharply at his words and she managed to weak repeat the name.

"H-Hellhound?"

That was a familiar term to her. When she was working on all of her research she came across multiple passages describe the beasts of Hell. In fact, she knew they were the creatures who came to collect the souls that had made deals with demons. She knew that it was something destined to be in her future and it was going to be bloody and unimaginably painful.

Crowley inclined his head at the snarl.

"I'd say yeah."

" _Why_ was that a Hellhound?" pressed Dean. The demon groaned and quickly patted his jacket, drawing a silver coin from his pocket.

"What's that?" asked Sam.

"Remember I was telling you about my crafty little tracking device?"

She nodded. "Yeah…"

"Demons planted one on _me_ ," he sighed.

"You're saying a Hellhound followed you here?" demanded Sam.

"Well, technically, he followed _this_ —"

Brady interrupted him. "Get me out of here. I'll tell you anything you want."

"Shut up."

"Okay, well, then we should go," insisted Dean, urgency in his tone.

"Sorry, boys. No one knows more about the Hounds than I," he said. "You're long past the point of "go."

Rosette could hardly stand the anxiety that was building within her chest and she stepped toward the darkly dressed demon, her hands trembling.

"Crowley, what—what do we do?"

His mouth twitched into a smirk and he flipped the coin high into the air. "Darling, _we_ don't do anything."

When Dean caught the coin, he was gone.

"Crowley?!" she called.

"Damn it!"

"I told you!" snapped Sam.

"Oh, well, good for you!" he said mockingly. "Luckily, we have salt in the kitchen."

"I'll watch Brady," volunteered Sam. Brady scoffed at his words.

"Watch me? Get me the hell out of here!"

Before Sam could argue or Rosette could even think about being sick, there was a loud crash from the kitchen and glass could be heard raining down on the kitchen tile. The girl's legs shook as she tightened her hold on the spatula, her only form of defense. Was she about to fight a monster with a kitchen utensil?

"Sam!" shouted Dean.

Glass shattered again and that was quickly followed by the sound of gunshots and snarling. Dean made it back to the room, loading the shotgun again as he moved.

"Salt?" asked Sam.

Dean gave him a look that was a firm "No".

The growling filled the room and Rosette couldn't help but gape as she stared at the creature in the doorway. It was large, nearly filling the frame, and its body was pitch black, like it was constructed out shadows. Angry red eyes blazed and she could see the glimmer of very long, and very sharp, teeth. The room was filled with a scorching heat and its claws dug grooves into the floorboards.

"Damn it, get me out of here!" yelled Brady, struggling against the ropes that Sam was trying to untie.

"Shut up!" the brothers chorused.

He didn't listen, staring at the beast with wide, unblinking eyes. "Great. Just great…"

Rosette was shaking so badly she was scared that she was going to drop her spatula. The fear was making her body numb and it was taking all of her self-control to hold onto her only weapon and remain standing. Her knees were shaking so bad, her heart was pounding, she could barely even breathe…

" _Hey!_ "

The voice was just a little more than a snarl itself, but she felt a spark of hope in her chest. She could see Crowley standing in the other room and there was an even larger Hound standing beside him. She couldn't help but cry out in relief.

"Crowley!"

"Hello, darling," he smirked.

"You're back?" asked Dean, stunned.

"I'm invested," he shrugged. "Currently."

The Hound beside him started to step forward and Crowley's voice returned to a snarl. " _Stay!_ "

Dean stammered for a moment. "You can control them?"

"Not _that_ one," he said, pointing to the one closest to them. It still had its eyes locked on Rosette and she didn't dare look away. Why was it looking at her like that?

"I brought my own." He patted the large creature's back, like it was any normal dog. His smirk was dangerous. "Mine's bigger."

He took a breath, his voice ringing out over the snarls of the Hounds and goosebumps broke out across her skin at the sound.

" _Sic 'im, boy!_ "

Dean lunged to the side, one arm looping around her waist and dragging her along with him. He and Sam quickly untied Brady while she kept an eye on the Hounds. There were snarls, flashes of teeth, and furniture was broken like toothpicks as they slammed each other into the walls. Splatters of blood sprayed across the frayed rugs and she let out a yelp of her own when she stumbled backwards to get out of the way of the larger Hound throwing the other across the room.

Dean scratched the seal on the floor and quickly snagged her by the arm, pulling her along as they all bolted for the back door. Brady was the first one out of the house, sprinting for the car. Crowley was already outside, waiting against the Impala with a proud smirk.

"I'll wager $1,000 my pup wins."

No one answered as everyone all but threw themselves into the car, Crowley rolling his eyes and getting in last. The engine turned over before the last door closed, tires squealing as they slammed on the gas. Bouncing when they drove over the curb, Rosette looked back through the rear window just in time to see the large window shatter and the surrounding wood splinter from the force. There was a sudden howl that even pierced the rumble of the car and she gave a violent shudder at the sound.

"Told you mine would win," said Crowley smugly.

She could only nod weakly, hardly listening. The further they got away from the house the more the high-adrenaline stress started to seep away from her body. It didn't matter that she was in a car full of strangers, in the backseat between two demons, driving to who-knows-where, her body had decided that she had enough.

"Humans," scoffed Brady, sparing a look of contempt at the unconscious girl.

"That's a nice mark you've got there," sneered Crowley, nodding toward the bright red square on his cheek. "Fancy explaining how you got that?"

Brady folded his arms and looked out the window with a sullen expression.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Your thoughts would be love! Sorry, it's so long but I wanted to keep the episode together so sorry if it's a bit of information overload. If it's too much I'll keep that in mind for future chapters.**

 **I hope you all enjoyed! Now to go to sleep...*passes out***

 **G'night!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Four**

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Dean—"

"No, don't "Dean" me!"

Rosette sighed and ran her hands over her face at the sudden spike in volume. She had lost track of time from the all of the driving from Nevada to North Dakota. They had arrived at Bobby Singer's home, a family friend of the Winchesters, just over an hour ago. Her situation was explained quickly to the gruff older hunter, who—much to her surprise—took everything in stride. His exact words being _"Stranger things have shown up on my porch, kid. I'm just happy you're not a body to bury."_ It wasn't the warmest welcome, but after how her previous 24 hours had been, she would gratefully take it.

"I mean, you—you have had some stupid ideas in the past, but this—" Dean turned to face Bobby, looking for some kind of back up, "—d-did you know about this?"

"What?"

"About Sam's genius plan to cram the Devil down his throat."

There was silence as the two hunters shared a look and Rosette frowned, sadly glancing back at Sam who was leaning against the sink. His hands were in his pockets as he kept his gaze downward. She had been told of what was going on, the basic gist of it anyway, and she knew about the pre-destined showdown between Michael and Lucifer that would cause the end of the world. The only thing that was just barely keeping the apocalypse immediately at bay was the fact that Sam and Dean were saying no.

Their defiance mattered because the two brothers were the opposing angels' true vessels. They could only have their fight if they had their vessel to inhabit and Dean was Michael's while Sam was Lucifer's. Not only were the two supposed to be the perfect hosts for the angels to occupy, but they were then going to battle against one another so viciously, on such a catastrophic and cosmic level that it would bring about the end of the world.

But that…that wasn't even the worst part. In her opinion, at least. On one hand, she understood the obvious reason to say no because it would prevent the ending of the world, and on the other…

She couldn't help but look at Sam and see Grace standing in the same position.

If she was in their shoes, she would fight tooth and nail as well. No way would someone make her fight her little sister, she wouldn't care if they were angels or devils. Just from her short time with the boys, she knew that they were on the same page as her. The perfect proof being Dean's reaction to Sam's new plan of self-sacrifice.

Plan being: Sam says "yes" to Lucifer and jumps into the cage himself. Locked away in hell for eternity.

Bobby nodded and the older brother bristled immediately.

"Well, thanks for the head's up!"

"Hey, this ain't about me."

Dean turned back to Sam, pointing at him. "You can't do this."

"That's the consensus," shrugged Sam in reluctant agreement. He wasn't even phased by the outburst.

"All right. Awesome. Then, end of discussion." Before anything else could be said, Dean's cellphone started to ring and he huffed at his brother, "This isn't over."

Bobby and Sam shared an exasperated look and the girl sighed along with them. It was too early to be so worked up and she could feel a headache already brewing.

"Hello?" A pause. "Cas?"

Everyone snapped to attention at the angel's abbreviated name.

"Is he okay?" asked Sam.

"Where the hell are you, man?" asked Dean. "Are you okay?"

Judging from his face, she would guess that he wasn't okay. She pushed herself to her feet, allowing her worry to be shown. When he appeared in the diner, he was hurt then too. Was he already hurt again? Going from the boys' reaction, it wasn't the norm for the angel to be injured.

"You want to elaborate?" he asked, trying not to sound too impatient. "S-so, a hospital?"

She found herself wishing that he would switch the phone to speaker so they could all hear what was happening. Technically, she should be untrusting of Castiel but she just couldn't bring herself to dislike him. Yes, he appeared out of nowhere, transported her to the other side of the country where she was thrown into a whirlwind of demons, Hellhounds, and she learned that the world was ending. After finding out the circumstances, she could understand why he had taken her. In fact, she wanted to help out as much as she could. She was playing catch up in regards to information, but she was a quick study and it also wasn't the first time she had encountered anything supernatural. It could be the brief encounter with the Hellhound (and escaping) that was making her ballsy, but she wanted to do whatever she could to help.

"Uh, well, I got to tell you, man—you're just in time," said Dean, for once sounding relieved. "We figured out a way to pop Satan's box. It's a long story, but, look—we're going after Pestilence now. So if you want to zap over here…"

A beat.

"What do you mean?" He paused for a minute to listen. "What do you mean? You're out of angel mojo?"

He was quiet again before muttering. "Human…Wow. Sorry."

Rosette exchanged a worried look with Sam. They could figure out from their side of the conversation what was happening and it didn't sound good. An angel without his power was a big hit for their team. Having at least one super powered person bettered their odds but now…

"All right," sighed Dean, rubbing his face. "Well, look, no worries. Uh, Bobby's here. He'll wire you the cash."

The said hunter's expression made his opinion very clear at being the one volunteered to hand out money. "I will?"

"Cas. I-it's okay," said Dean, ignoring Bobby's disgruntled answer. The sincerity shifted to masked annoyance. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

He opened his mouth to say something else but abruptly stopped, looking down at the phone to see that the call had ended. Closing the phone with a click, he sighed again.

"So, Cas is at a hospital with no ID, no money, and no angel mojo," he explained in short. "Hopefully, he can bounce back in time to help us nab Pestilence's ring, but until then…"

"We've got it," assured Sam. "We already got two, we can get one more."

Rosette was quick to pipe up. "I can help too!"

Sam gave a concerned, but appreciative, look in response. "No offense, but I don't think you'd be much help in this case. We've gone up against the Horsemen before and it's hard even for us."

"Well, if I can't help in that regard I can at least help and bring Castiel to you," she reasoned. "If he can't zap anywhere he'll need another way to get to you."

The brothers shared a look before turning to Bobby for his opinion. He gave a flat glare in return and gestured to his wheelchair.

"Well, I ain't drivin'."

That being said, no one argued and everything set into motion. Sam and Dean began to check the Impala and make sure that everything was prepared for their road trip. Rosette helped Bobby load up the old, nondescript van that they were going to take for their journey to pick up the angel from the airport. She didn't think that they would need much but was immediately proven wrong when she helped carry duffle bags filled with firearms, salt, lighter fluid, matches, lighters, and boxes of ammunition. Her usual road trip necessities were snacks and drinks which looked fairly childish in comparison.

It seemed like barely any time had passed before the brothers were back in the Impala and she and Bobby were by the driver's window. She nervously tugged on the cuff of her sleeve as she studied the two. If the plan went south then this could be the last time she ever saw the two. She made eye contact with Sam and gave a tight smile and a nod, trying to be as encouraging as she could even though her words wouldn't cooperate. He returned the gesture with an uneasy expression of his own.

"Be careful," said Bobby. She nodded vigorously in agreement, her throat tight with emotion.

The two only gave a nod before Dean shifted the car into gear and they made their way out of the salvage yard. The two didn't look away until the sleek black car was out of sight.

* * *

"So what's the deal with you then?"

Bobby's question broke the once comfortable silence as they made their way to the airport where Castiel was due to arrive. They were already a few hours into the drive since the location was out of the way, in Iowa of all places which was a bit of a drive from North Dakota. By choosing that particular airport, it put them closer to where the assumed location of Pestilence's hideout which in turn, meant that they could get the angel to Sam and Dean all that sooner.

"What do you mean?" she asked, glancing away from the road to see Bobby pegging her with a look.

"What do I mean?" he repeated. He began to list his reasons on his fingers. "You're zapped out of your hometown, thrown into this hell hole of a mess with complete strangers, demons and angels alike, you've already had a run-in with a Hellhound, and instead of having a justified break down, you're volunteering to stay and help us. So, yeah, what's your deal?"

She flinched at his accuracy. "Ouch. When it's put like that, I guess I do sound crazy…"

"To say the least."

"Well…" she paused to throw on the flickering turn signal. "I just don't see how I could stay out of it."

Bobby raised a questioning brow, so she took a breath and continued.

"I mean, yes, the past twenty-four hours have been absolutely insane and I feel like I'm constantly on the edge of an emotional meltdown, but I can understand everything at the same time too. I'm guessing they told you my backstory, right?"

"That you made a deal with the demon Crowley, yeah."

"After all of that, understanding that there are angels as well as Lucifer himself and that the most biblical Armageddon is trying to break down our front door, coming to terms wasn't all too hard. I mean, I already knew about demons and that's a pretty good foot to have in the door."

Bobby gave a nod in understanding. "So why stay? Why not go back home? Sure as hell your family's worried."

She swallowed dryly and kept her gaze focused on the road.

"I-I'd rather stay here and help than go back home and pray that the end of the world doesn't come, if that's all right with you guys" she said. "I've already given up my soul and I don't want everything to fall apart and for everyone I love to die. If it all ends now, the time that my soul bought would be for nothing."

A moment of quiet bubbled up and Bobby was the one who spoke up next.

"You sold your soul for someone?"

She nodded, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. "Yes."

"Mind if I ask who?"

"My little sister," she answered, throat feeling tight again. "She—she was sick when she was younger—cancer—and nothing was helping. Doctors, treatments, prayer—it didn't do anything to stop or slow down the disease."

"So you summoned a demon."

She nodded again and gave a little nervous laugh. "To be honest, I didn't think it'd work. Chalked it up to being some backwoods rumor but I had to try something—I was desperate. I couldn't stand by and do nothing. She was so young, so little, and everything about the whole situation was so unfair. She was too little for all that pain, to hear that she only had months, then weeks to live. I felt so useless, like I had failed her as a sister because I couldn't take it away. What kind of sister was I, to be unable to protect her from something so devastating and terrifying? So…when the summoning worked…"

"You said yes."

"I didn't even need to think about it."

The silence appeared again and she gave a reassuring smile to the older hunter.

"I'm not sad about it—selling my soul," she told him. "I'd do the same thing again in a heartbeat. It's why I have no hesitation when it comes to helping you guys out. If I can do something to keep this world spinning then I will. I want it stay standing after I'm gone."

Bobby gave her a sober look at her words. "Just how much longer do you have, kid?"

Her smile faltered slightly but it was enough for him to notice.

"Until January 1st."

"And do you know that time works differently in hell?" he asked. "I'm not saying this to be mean, but just to make sure you're aware."

"No, I don't think I've read anything about a time difference with the afterlife of any kind," she said. "Why? Is it drastic?"

He gave a hard sigh. "From what Dean's told us, one month on Earth is equivalent to ten years on hell."

Her heart gave a hard beat at his words. That was a blip of what was to be her eternity.

As quickly as that terrifying thought appeared, it faded. It also meant that she got to spend ten full years with her little sister. She got to make memories that would never had happened if it wasn't for her soul and Crowley. They got to experience life with each other, having the other as a sister. They got to be together through emotional upheavals, joyful, cornerstone moments of their lives. They were able to forge the bond that only they, as sisters, could have. Something that was as beautiful, fierce, and as unbreakable as they were. Ten years with Grace was what her soul bought her.

She gave a smile again, though her blue eyes were a little glassy with unshed tears. "I got ten years on Earth with her though. I still wouldn't change anything."

Bobby gave a soft smile at her words, looking back out onto the road. "It's no wonder why you and the boys get along."

* * *

It was late in the evening when they managed to pull up at Serenity Valley Convalescent Home. They pulled up beside the Impala and Rosette gratefully put the car in park, immediately stretching her back and her spine creaked in relief. She and Bobby had spent somewhere around ten hours in the car on their trip, only stopping for necessity and when they arrived at the airport to pick up Castiel.

Speaking of which, it was an ordeal to find the angel in the airport. The phone he carried was dead and he wasn't waiting for them at the general pick-up location. So, Rose had to park the van and go in herself, since she would obviously be faster than Bobby. It took longer than necessary but she did find him wandering about in the opposite terminal. He looked very perplexed by her arrival but she gave a small smile and led him back to the van, feeling his gaze boring into her back all the while. He was silent during the ride to the horseman's destination, even though she tried to keep some kind of conversation going. Her attempts were proven fruitless and it was simpler to stay quiet as she drove.

"How long do you think they've been in there?" she asked. She glanced worriedly at the empty car beside them.

"There's no good way to tell from here," sighed Bobby. "It's not like a nursing home would be busy at this hour."

A low voice finally spoke up.

"I'm going in."

Rose turned around at his voice to see Castiel opening the van's sliding door. The fact that his arm trembled from the simple action had her unbuckling her seatbelt as quickly as she could.

"Whoa, kid-!"

The girl was out of the vehicle before Bobby could grab her and she barely managed to catch the stumbling angel. His chin dropped onto the top of her shoulder and she had to throw her arms around him to keep him from falling entirely, knees threatening to buckle under the sudden weight.

"Obviously—!" she grunted. "I'm coming with you…!"

Bobby turned in his seat and his objection was made clear. "Like hell you are!"

"No…you can't…" said Cas, pushing himself upright again. "This is the Horseman Pestilence…you're human…"

"And you're an angel that can barely stand," she argued. "I think we're past the point of which species would be better in this situation."

Blue eyes tried to give her a hard look but it didn't have the desired effect. She wasn't cowed into submission, she could clearly see his exhaustion and that only steeled her resolve. Reaching into the van, she picked up a sawed-off double barrel shotgun and slung a duffle bag across her body.

"Sam and Dean are human and they took on two Horsemen already." She checked that the gun was loaded and snapped it into place. "And 'sides, I'm a fair shot."

Bobby and Castiel shared a quick look and she could tell that they wanted to argue the point further, but they also understood where they stood against Pestilence. They needed any help they could get.

"Fine," Bobby stiffly agreed. "But you hang back, you hear me? Let Cas take the lead. You're backup and if things go south you get the hell out, understand?"

"Yes sir," she promised with a nod.

"We have to move quickly," instructed Castiel, cutting off what else Bobby was about to say. "Pestilence doesn't stay in one place for long."

Nodding again, she tried to give the hunter one last reassuring smile over her shoulder before following after the battered angel.

Entering the nursing home was unusually simple. Rosette was sure to stay close to Castiel, both hands on her gun and body tense as she remained on high alert. The facility was strangely quiet, she noticed. She listened as intently as she could but she couldn't hear a thing. Not the sounds of machinery for the patients or the general soft noises of the employees on the night shift. There wasn't anything. A shuffle of paperwork, the scuff of a shoe on the tile. Nothing.

The further into the building they crept, the eeriness of the situation made goosebumps break out across her skin and she shivered. She kept her eye on the angel and constantly surveyed for any potential threat. From what she knew, demons looked just like any regular person, was it the same for the Horsemen? Heat began to steadily fill her body, specifically the top of her checks and back of her neck. Sweated dotted her brow and she felt a bead slip from her temple. Her brows furrowed in confusion at her rapidly growing fatigue. Her hands were clammy and beginning to shake. She felt just fine a moment ago…

"C-Cas…" she wheezed. Suddenly, her lungs felt tight and as if her throat was coated in sandpaper.

They rounded the corner and two bodies were splayed on the hallway floor. Even the staff wasn't spared. She tried to focus on them to see what had happened exactly but her vision began to blur and swim out of focus.

"Almost there…" muttered Castiel. Nodding in agreement, she turned her gaze back to his trench coat, trying to zone in on a singular thing to fight against the dizziness. Each step was harder than the last, her body begging for her to stop and even her bones were screaming for rest. Jaw clenched tightly, she tried to keep her breathing under control but soon she wasn't able to keep from coughing. She turned to bury the cough in her elbow, muffling the sound and when she pulled away there was a bright smear of red on the sleeve. Well, that wasn't good…

A new voice could be heard, clear as bell in the still air.

"So, you've got to wonder why God pours all his love into something so _messy_ …and _weak_."

Room 210.

This time, she couldn't make the next step and gravity won, bringing her to the ground. The cold tile was a sweet relief against her cheek and it was so tempting to close her eyes and just _rest_. Blearily, she watched as Castiel trudged forward, even his movements becoming sluggish. Somewhere in the back of her exhausted mind, a part of her was still shouting at her to get back up, that she had a job to do, that the Winchester boys needed her. And if she didn't get up, she could lose everything.

Pestilence continued on, "It's ridiculous. All I can do is show Him He's wrong, one epidemic at a time."

Her fingers twitched and she was dimly aware of the shotgun in her hand. Another good reason why she chose that gun over the others in the van. With a shotgun, she didn't have to be absolutely accurate, she could be close enough and still cause damage.

"Now…on a scale of 1 to 10, how's your pain?"

Castiel threw open the door and she struggled to push herself onto all fours, the gun scraping against the ground. The taste of copper filled her mouth and she couldn't bring herself to care about the blood dripping from her lips.

"Cas…" she heard Dean groan.

"How'd you get here?" asked Pestilence.

"I took a bus," he lied. "Don't worry, I—"

She flinched at the abrupt sound of Castiel suddenly coughing and gagging and she heard his body drop to the ground. Breathing hard, she pulled herself closer to the doorway. She could see Dean's body lying still and she could see the bottom part of Castiel's legs. She didn't dare peek any further, for fear of being seen.

"Well, look at that. An occupied vessel, but powerless. Oh, that's _fascinating_."

There was no way she could run back to the van like she promised Bobby, not to mention that Castiel had fallen to Pestilence's disease tactic as well. She couldn't leave them.

"There's not a speck of angel in you, is there?"

Taking a shaky breath, she mustered up all of her depleting strength and threw herself into the doorway, slamming into the frame. Vision swaying dangerously, she brought the shotgun up and took aim at the only figure that seemed to be standing with perfect ease. That had to be Pestilence.

"Another one?" he sighed. "And just who are you?"

He brought his hand up and she thought her body was going to combust from the sudden fever. Her joints were aching so badly, she couldn't bend her finger enough to pull the trigger. The air itself felt like knives against her skin. So, she prayed for the best and rasped,

"A distraction…"

Castiel leapt to his feet, the fallen dagger in his hand and threw himself at Pestilence. There was a sickening sound as the blade met flesh and the Horseman cried out as his fingers were quickly chopped, the edge of the knife hitting the table, stating the clean cut.

"Maybe just a speck," growled Castiel.

Pestilence continued to scream in rage and pain as he stumbled back. Another figure lunged at the angel but the threat was short lived as the knife sunk into her abdomen. Rose could only watch as her body went slack and she slumped against the doorframe entirely, gun clattering to the ground. The fever was suddenly gone and she was so relieved to feel her body temperature return to normal.

"It doesn't matter…"

Vision straightening out, she could see Dean and Sam jump to their feet and face Pestilence again. He was cradling his maimed hand to his chest but he didn't look as devastated as someone should be after getting their fingers cut off.

"It's too late."

* * *

The Horseman's ring spun on the desk back at Bobby's, the green stone glinting. The five of them were gathered around, everyone looking tired and worse for wear. It was taking everything for Rose not to fall asleep against the nearest person rather than fall off the chair.

"Well, it's nice to actually score a home run for once, ain't it?" said Bobby, breaking the silence.

Nothing was said and Dean made the ring spin again.

"What?" asked Bobby.

Sam sighed and explained. "The last thing Pestilence said was 'It's too late'."

"He get specific?"

"No," said Sam, shaking his head. Rose grimaced as well.

"He didn't…seem as upset as you'd think a Horseman would be at losing their ring," she added. "Or fingers…"

"We're just a little freaked out that he might have left a bomb somewhere," spoke up Dean. "So please tell us you have actual good news."

Bobby sighed.

"Chicago's about to be wiped off the map."

Rose's voice rose an octave in panic at the news and she was half out of her chair.

" _What_?!"

"Storm of the millennium. Sets off a daisy chain of natural disasters. Three million people are gonna die."

Rose dropped back into her seat, her legs shaking and face stark white. Chicago. Storm. Disasters. _Three million people are going to die._

"I don't understand your definition of good news," said Castiel. She raised her hand in agreement.

"I'm with him..."

"Well…" said Bobby. "Death, the Horseman—he's gonna be there. And if we can stop him before he kick-starts this storm, get his ring back—"

"Yeah, you make it sound so easy," snarked Dean.

"Hell, I'm just trying to put a spin on it," retorted Bobby.

Sam sat up a bit straighter and Rose noticed the concerned look on his face. "Bobby, h-how'd you put all this together, anyways?"

"I had, you know…help."

Rosette felt the sudden warmth before she heard the glass clink against the bottle and she spun around in her seat to see Crowey standing just behind them in the kitchen. Dressed in his all-black suit and coat, he poured himself a glass of alcohol. Just before she was going to smile, the realization came to her and turned back to the older hunter.

"Oh Bobby…"

Crowley smirked. "Don't be so modest. I barely helped at all."

He sauntered over to the group, glass in hand. "Hello, boys. Darling. It's a pleasure, et cetera." Pausing to sniff his drink, he made a face and set it down, leaning against the frame of the door. "Go ahead. Tell them. There's no shame in it. The boys obviously need the answers handed to them."

"Bobby?" asked Sam. "Tell us what?"

Rose could only sadly look at the man and keep her silence. She had no right to speak against what he did, not with her record.

He hesitated before saying, "World's gonna end. It seems stupid to get all precious over one little…soul…"

"You sold your soul?"

Rose noticed Castiel lowering his head in disappointment and the guilt gnawed at her again. It was far too late to feel guilty over what she did almost ten years ago. It did more than her praying ever did, but she couldn't help but feel bad, now that she knew angels existed.

"Oh, more like pawned it," explained Crowley. "I fully intend to give it back."

"Well then give it back!" demanded Dean.

"I will."

"Now!"

Sam was next. "Did you kiss him?"

"Sam!"

"Just wondering."

Bobby looked back and forth between the two boys. "No!"

Rose looked confused by his answer. She distinctively remembered being told the only way to seal a crossroads deal was with a kiss…

Crowley pointedly cleared his throat and they all turned to see him holding up a phone, an image of the two kissing on the screen. She had to do her best not to giggle at the boys' look of shock.

"Why'd you take a picture?" gritted Bobby. The demon glanced from the photo to him and calmly asked.

"Why do you have to use tongue?"

She delicately covered her mouth to give a little cough, hardly able to keep her giggle at bay.

Dean had enough, getting up from his chair. "All right. You know what? I'm sick of this. Give him his soul back _now_."

Crowley didn't seem threatened as Dean made his way over to him.

"I'm sorry. I can't."

"Can't or won't?"

His gaze sharpened. "I won't, all right? It's insurance."

"What're you talking about?"

"You kill demons. Gigantor over there has a temper issue about it," he explained, nodding over toward Sam. "But you won't kill me…as long as I have that soul in the deposit box."

"You son of a bitch."

Crowley gave a stern look. "I'll return it. After all this is over and I can walk safely away with my life and _my_ contract."

Rose felt a chill go down her spine when his tone became guttural, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

" _Do we all understand each other?_ "

* * *

Once again they were loading up the two vehicles, the van and the Impala for the trip to Chicago. Rose and Sam were loading up the van and she noticed that he seemed to be lost in thought and she hesitated before breaking the silence.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Pulled from his thoughts, he looked at her in confusion. "What do you mean? You're helping right now."

They loaded the next bag together, the box of shotgun shells rattling.

"I mean…you guys are taking on so much by yourself, and then there's your plan…" she trailed off for a moment. "I just want you to know that I'll help in any way I can. Whatever you need me to do—I'll help."

Sam studied her for a moment.

"When people learn the world's ending, they don't usually volunteer to stay," he said. "Why haven't you tried to go back home?"

"Bobby asked something similar already," she gave a weak chuckle. "But I can't possibly go home and wait and see. If I can do something, then I will. There's no way I could just leave you guys to deal with this on your own."

"We deal with the supernatural on a daily basis," Sam gently reminded. "Monsters and demons are kind of our forte."

"And saving the world from the Apocalypse?"

He actually gave a little laugh at her light tease. "Well, this is certainly a first for us."

"Then let me help," she said. "I'm not trained like you guys are but I can keep the car running, I'm an okay shot, and I'm fairly clever. I'm nothing special but I can be of some use."

Sam gave a tight smile as he looked down at the red haired girl before him. She was trying so hard to help them, which was an unexpected twist. When Castiel brought a random girl to them in Nevada, he and Dean thought it was going to be another problem they would to handle, but they were proven wrong so far. She's stood her ground against a Hellhound and he distinctively remembered her smacking the demon that inhabited Brady and then turning around and threatening him to get his shit together. And then she drove all day to pick up Castiel and bring him to the Pestilence showdown, even getting caught up in the mess herself.

She was so determined to help them and he couldn't help but be sadden by the fact that her time on earth was quickly coming to an end.

He caught sight of Crowley prowling nearby and his eyes narrowed. If they could get the demon to let go of Bobby's soul maybe the same could be done for Rose.

"We should be all set here," he said, closing the trunk. The rush of air from closing the door had pushed back her hair and some strands had come loose. Carefully, he reached down and brushed it back into place, feeling the softness against his fingertips. Blue eyes watched him intently and nothing was said between the two. A moment of quiet understanding seemed to pass and he slowly lowered his hand.

"Ahem."

Rosette flinched at the sound and turned to see Crowley raising a brow. She glanced once more to Sam before making her way over. The taller Winchester didn't miss the glare the demon sent over his shoulder, despite his cool façade and hands in his coat pockets. Sighing, Sam made his way over to Dean and the Impala.

Crowley steered his contract over to where Castiel was standing alone. The angel's expression became guarded as he glared at the smug crossroads demon.

"We're overdue for a chat, Castiel," he smirked. He pushed the girl so that she was standing directly between the two opposing creatures. "It's time for you to remove your scratches from my contract, if you'd be so kind."

"No."

"You may want to reconsider that answer, angel," warned Crowley, his voice becoming dangerously soft.

Brilliant blue eyes lowered to the human's gaze and his features softened. "I apologize, Rosette, but having you here acts as insurance. Crowley is not to be trusted, even more so now that he's holding Bobby's soul hostage as well."

"Listen here, you started this—"

"We have to stop Michael and Lucifer from ending of the world. Your tantrum can wait, demon," Castiel said firmly. The conversation clearly came to an end as he walked away. Crowley didn't say anything in return. He only took a deep breath and made his way over to the Impala where Sam and Dean were talking. Rosette was only a step behind him.

"And…scene."

Sam and Dean gave a withering look as Crowley stepped closer, pulling a folded newspaper from inside his coat. Completely unbothered by their looks, he handed them the paper and pointed at the headline.

"There's something you need to see."

Coming around as well, Rose had to stand on her tiptoes to see the paper around Sam who began to read.

"Niveus Pharmaceuticals is rushing delivery of its new swine-flu vaccine to "stem the tide of the unprecedented outbreak." Shipment leaves Wednesday."

"Niveus Pharmaceuticals?" repeated Crowley. "Get it?"

The silence was answer enough and he sighed.

"You two are lucky you have your looks," he told the boys. "Your demon lover, Brady?"

Rose perked at the name.

"V.P of Distribution, Niveus." Sam and Dean seemed to connect the dots and shared a look. "Ah, yes, that the sound of the abacus clacking? We all caught up?"

She tentatively raised her hand. "Sorry, not quite?"

"Pestilence was spreading swine flu," explained Sam.

"Yeah, but not just for giggles," said Dean. "That was Step One. Step Two is the vaccine. And you think—"

Crowley crisply interrupted. "I _know_. I'll stake my reputation—that vaccine is chock-full of grade-A, farm-fresh Croatoan virus."

"Simultaneous, countrywide distribution," said Sam. "It's quite a plan."

"They don't get to be Horsemen for nothing," sighed Crowley. "So you boys better stock up on…well, everything. This time next Thursday we'll all be living in Zombieland."

Rose's mind was reeling. Now there were zombies on the horizon too?

"Well…shit."

* * *

Twilight was giving way to night by the time they finished preparing everything. The tension could be felt in the air and Rose involuntarily flinched when the trunk of the Impala was closed.

"All right, well…" said Dean, breaking the silence. "Good luck stopping the whole zombie apocalypse."

"Yeah. Good luck killing Death."

"Yeah."

Sam paused before giving a weak, dry chuckle. "Remember when we used to…just hunt Wendigos? How simple things were?"

"Not really."

Rose didn't even want to ask what on earth a Wendigo was, especially if from what the Winchester brothers considered a "simpler" time. Instead, she took her time trying to memorize everyone, searing them into her mind. Once again they were riding out into a perilous situation and she wanted to make certain that she could remember as much as possible about everyone and everything. She was worried about what was to come and scared for everyone's safety, but she wasn't concerned about her own. The people she was standing with had a chance at a long and happy life, and she wanted to make sure they could achieve as much of it as possible. She was a lost cause. Her fate didn't matter but theirs did.

"Well, um…" started Sam. He pulled out a knife from his jacket's interior pocket and extended the handle out to Dean. "You might need this."

Again, she felt the warmth before she heard his voice. He seemed to materialize out of thin air, standing between herself and Dean. Though she still twitched at the sudden appearance, she was becoming less startled and more familiar with the demon's teleporting.

"Keep it. Dean's covered."

Crowley held out an old sickle to the eldest Winchester. It looked ancient, every inch of it rusted with age. He proceed to explain when no one reacted.

"Death's own. Kills, golly, demons and angels and reapers and, rumor has it, the very thing itself."

The boys shared a look and Castiel was the first to speak up.

"How did you get that?"

"Hello—King of the Crossroads," scoffed Crowley. "So, shall we?"

He glanced toward Bobby and sighed. "Bobby, you just gonna to sit there?"

The hunter gave an annoyed scowl.

"No, I'm gonna riverdance."

"I suppose if you want to impress the ladies."

She gave a half smile at his humor and sighed. Clearly, there was something else going on. "What're you tryin' to get at?"

He gave her a knowing smirk.

"Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. Really wasted that Crossroads deal," he tutted. "Fact—you get more if you phrase it properly. So, I took the liberty of adding a teeny little sub-A clause on your behalf."

The boys were still quiet and Rose was quickly looking from the demon to Bobby's still legs. Hope was beginning to bubble at what he was hinting at. Did he really? Would he do a genuine nice thing for Bobby?

"Really?" she asked softly.

"What can I say? I'm an altruist," he shrugged. He looked to Bobby again. "So, just gonna sit there?"

Bobby slowly looked down at his legs and everyone seemed to be holding their breath in anticipation.

It took a moment of hesitation but then Bobby's right foot, the toe of his boot lifted. His gaze snapped up in surprise before looking back down at his legs. Slowly, he lifted his right leg from the wheelchair foot rest and set it on the ground. Next, he gripped the arms of the chair and carefully began to push himself upright. Hardly daring to breathe, she couldn't believe her eyes when he standing at his full height. Sam and Dean shared a smile in disbelief and Bobby was stunned as well.

"Son of a bitch…"

"Yes, I know. Completely worth your soul. I'm a hell of a guy—"

Rose couldn't help but let out a little cheer and she threw her arms around the demon before she could stop herself. Face buried in his shoulder, she gave a tight squeeze and then quickly let go, knowing that she shouldn't push her luck. She did notice that of course he was very warm, the heat emanating through his suit and coat. He remained perfectly still, hands in his pockets while she gave him a bright smile.

"Thanks…" said Bobby, his gratitude sincere.

"This is getting maudlin. Can we go?"

He turned to make his way to the car, taking his place in the front seat and the door shut firmly after him. Despite the huff, she turned her smile to the hunters and angel, noting that their spirits had lifted as well.

* * *

The city of Chicago was living up to its windy namesake because Rose had to shove her hair back away from her face for the fourth time already. She was assigned to the team going to Chicago with Dean and Crowley to locate Death the Horseman. Mostly because the other option was to go with Sam, Bobby, and Castiel to the Niveus Pharmaceuticals distribution site where there would be more demons, monsters, C-4 explosives, and of course, the Croatoan virus itself. So, hunting down Death was the mission that would maybe not kill her.

"Hey, let's stop for pizza," suggested Crowley.

She and Dean gave him a strange look.

"Are you kidding?"

"Well…Chicago does have the best pizza…" she slowly agreed. "Bit of a weird subject to bring up though, isn't it?"

"Just heard it was good. That's all."

"When this is all said and done, I'll bring you guys to this great pizza place I know here," she promised with a little smile. "We came across it during one of the doctor visits. The best deep dish, hands down. Actually, I think it's around here somewhere?"

Dean gave a small tight smile at her attempt to lighten the mood.

They made their way under another overpass, the city traffic humming above them. The street they were on was vacant, a few cars parked along the sides and the buildings looked worn down, some abandoned.

"Up ahead. Big, ugly building. Ground zero," said Crowley. "Horseman's stable, if you will. He's in there."

"How do you know?" asked Dean.

"Have you met me? 'Cause I _know_." He took a breath. "Also, the block is squirming with reapers."

Rose squinted as she looked around, trying see what he was talking about. There was nothing that was obvious to her, but she couldn't help but feel as if there was something lingering at the edge of her peripheral. Every time she tried to turn and get a better look, it was gone. Maybe that's what he was talking about?

"I'll be right back."

Before she could tell him to be careful, he was gone and then his voice was behind her seemingly less than a second later. The two whirled around to face him.

"Boy, is my face red," he said. "Death's not in there."

"You want to cut the cute and get to the part where you tell me where he is?" growled Dean.

"Sorry. I don't know."

Dean stepped past the girl and grabbed Crowley by the shoulder, moving so that he was in front of him, bringing him to a halt.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a minute," he said. "You don't know?"

"Signs pointed. I-I'm just as shocked as you."

"Bobby sold his soul for this!"

"Relax. All deals are soul back or store credit. We'll catch Death in the next doomed city."

Rose found her voice at his comment. "The next doomed city? But what—what about Chicago? There's nothing else we can do?"

"No."

Dean didn't like the answer either. "Millions, Crowley. Millions of people are about to die any minute."

"True. So I strongly suggest we get out of here."

Thunder rumbled loudly overhead in warning. The wind was picking up as well, cool against her skin, warning them about the storm to come. She pulled the oversized jacket Dean had lent her closer to her body to ward off the worsening weather. She followed the two back toward the direction where they had parked the car, the hunter and demon still arguing. She furrowed her brow in confusion when she couldn't hear what they were saying. Normally, she would have blamed the weather but even that wasn't making sense to her.

The wind was still whipping, stated by the loose material of the coat and her hair coming free from her bun, but she could no longer feel it against her skin. She made to catch up with her team but her body wouldn't comply. Soon her legs brought her to a halt as she stared at the retreating backs of Dean and Crowley, trying futilely to work her voice to call out. A deep, soul chilling cold settled into her and she felt goosebumps break out in response. Slowly, she felt herself turn and begin to walk down the street in the opposite direction.

Everything was quiet to her as she moved. The passing cars, the chattering people, she couldn't hear. All she was aware of was faintest sound at the edge of her consciousness. The more she tried to focus on it, the more distorted it became. It almost sounded like a song or a hymn, but she couldn't tell for certain. Ice cold hands continued to steer her along the sidewalk and she vaguely noticed the pale white Cadillac parked at the meter.

She found herself opening the door to Rinascita Pizzeria and she stepped into the restaurant.

If she had full control of her body, she would have screamed at the sight.

The first person was a waitress lying on the floor, her eyes wide and unblinking. Next, the few patrons that were present were face down in their food, arms hanging limply at their sides. Heart pounding hard against her chest, she kept her mouth tightly closed to prevent any sound from escaping. The rest of the dining room was in a similar state. Staff members were on the ground, trays of food dropped and spilled onto the black and white tile floor. Fighting the rising bile and the prick of hot tears, she was brought closer to the lone figure sitting upright at a center table. There was the sound of a fork against a plate and clear voice spoke up.

"Have a seat."

* * *

Electricity crackled overhead as Dean made his way to his car, his collar turned up against the wind. As soon as the rain started to come down, Crowley had disappeared and reappeared, all nice and dry in the passenger seat. The door creaked when he opened it and ducked inside.

"So, what?" huffed Dean, closing the door. "Call in a bomb threat? One thousand bomb threats? I mean, how the hell am I supposed to get three million people out of Chicago in the next ten minutes?"

Before he was given a smart retort, Crowley's face seemed to fall as he looked around the car.

"Where is she?"

"What?"

" _Rosette_ —where is she?"

Dean looked around as well, checking back the way they came but she was nowhere he could see. With hair that red, she would be easy to spot.

"Well—she's from here, right? Maybe she ran home?" he guessed.

"She's not from Chicago and besides, she wouldn't run off," he corrected sharply. His gaze flickered around and just as Dean was about to say something, the passenger seat was vacant.

"Great…"

It didn't take Crowley long to hone in on Rosette's soul. For some reason, her soul was especially bright and easy for him to locate. Always has been. Fortunately she wasn't far from them at all. He was confused as to why she was inside some pizzeria, he knew she wouldn't just wander off on her own. When he peered into the window, he felt the color drain from his face.

Rosette was sitting at a table with Death the Horseman.

Her face was stark white and he could see her trembling from where he was standing. Hands clenched tightly in her lap and she didn't dare lift her gaze from the tabletop. Silently cursing to himself, he teleported back to the Impala

"I found him. Death—he's in there," he explained, pointing to the restaurant. He would have to leave it to the Winchester. He, personally, didn't match up to the Horseman. Self-preservation commanded him to leave the situation to those with less concern for their well-being. He was no good to anyone dead.

That didn't stop the forgotten feeling of guilt from rising up.

"And Rose?"

Dean was about to say something else only to find the car empty. Groaning, he grabbed the sickle and took a deep breath before making his way to Death's location.

* * *

Rosette could scarcely breathe as she shook with fear. Death continued to politely eat his pizza with a knife and fork, like it was a casual lunch between two colleagues. She tried to keep perfectly still, her head lowered, and all in all, trying to become as small as possible. It was apparent to her how powerful the figure was, clearly stated by the restaurant full of dead bodies, and that she was less than a foot away from Death himself. He didn't have her sit across from him, in fact, he had her sit to his left instead. She was doing everything in her power to keep their knees from accidentally bumping under the table.

"You're very quiet."

She couldn't think of anything to say, so she settled for a simple nod.

"You must be wondering how you found me when your demon jailor could not."

Wide blue eyes dared to glance at him and eerily dark eyes looked back at her. She dared to nod in response.

"That would be because I called for you," he explained. "Due to my current…arrangement, I cannot go where I need to. So I'm stuck having to wait for the Winchesters to find me."

She quietly listened, some of the shaking subsiding and she plucked up her courage to meekly whisper,

"You...c-called for me?"

"Yes." He took a neat bit of pizza. "You're close to death, as you are well aware. Because of this, you're more in tune with the unusual, especially those considered to be harbingers of death such as Hellhounds, Reapers, et cetera. This puts you on my tier of resonance and was how I was able to summon you to me."

"O-oh…"

He glanced over at her as he cut another piece. "I must say, I do appreciate the lack of hysteria. It's not very often a human is so accepting of their Fate."

"I-I've had awhile to adjust," she answered. "Not to mention, a bit of a crash course of the supernatural this week…"

"Speaking of…"

There was a hiss of pain and a sharp clatter as metal hit the ground. Whipping her gaze up, Rosette was incredibly relieved to see Dean standing a short ways behind them.

"Thanks for returning that."

Confused, Rose saw that Dean was empty handed and that the rusted sickle, Death's very own and their only threat against the Horseman, was sitting on the checkered tablecloth beside his drink, as if he brought it himself.

"Join me, Dean. The pizza's delicious."

The hunter shared a worried glance with her and she gave a tight nod. They were in no position to deny Death's request. Carefully, almost on tiptoe, Dean made his way to their table.

"Sit down."

He did as he was told and she noticed that the rain started to pick up outside, the people rushing by were pulling out their umbrellas to try and stay dry.

"Took you long enough to find me," commented Death. "Had to use your little friend as a lure."

He sighed when Dean glanced at her again, checking for injuries.

"She's not hurt. I've been wanting to talk to you."

"I've got to say—" started Dean, swallowing dryly, "—mixed feelings about that…S-so, is this the part where…" He had to clear his throat. "…where you kill me?"

Lightning flashed outside with the storm and the bright light fill the dining room, illuminating Death's somber face as he meet Dean's gaze evenly. Rose could only look back and forth between the two and pray that her heart didn't give out under the sheer stress of the situation.

"You have an inflated sense of your importance," said Death. "To a thing like me, a thing like you two, well…"

The sound of him sipping his drink was so out-of-place in the tense atmosphere that she had to keep from flinching again.

"Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky."

If she was in any other scenario, she would have laughed or smiled at the smart comment but she could only listen, frozen in place. That's what they were to him? As small as bacteria?

"This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers," he said. "I'm old, Dean. I'm very old. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you."

The thunder crashed again, almost as if to prove his point.

He moved to lift a slice of the deep dish pizza and placed it on the plate before Dean. To her surprise, he then moved one on to her plate as well.

"Eat."

She and Dean shared another look. Was it a trap? Poisoned? Even if it wasn't, she didn't know if she could handle any food at the moment. Her mouth was so dry, she could hardly work her tongue to speak earlier.

Judging by Death's silence, the conversation wasn't about to proceed forward until they did as they were told. Shakily, she unrolled her silverware and placed the napkin on her lap. Praying that she could work the silverware despite her numbness in her fingers from having her hands clenched so hard, she very carefully picked up the fork and knife and cut into the very end of the pizza. Dean was moving at a similar pace which reassured her. At least she wasn't the only one terrified.

When they both took a bite, Death gave the slightest smirk.

"Good, isn't it?"

Rose nodded in agreement. It was pizza, which was always a great choice in her opinion, but her mouth was still so dry from the panic, she honestly couldn't taste. She mechanically chewed and swallowed the food.

"Well, I got to ask," said Dean slowly. "How old are you?"

"As old as God. Maybe older. Neither of us can remember anymore," Death answered easily. "Life, death, chicken, egg. Regardless—at the end, I'll reap Him too."

"G-God?" she heard herself squeak. Her high school religion teacher would have had a stroke at the news.

"You'll reap God?" asked Dean.

"Oh yes," he said, looking them each in the eye. "God will die too, Dean, Rosette."

She felt a chill run down her spine at the sound of Death saying her name.

Quiet returned for a moment while they tried to take in the news and Death cut himself another bite of pizza.

"Well," said Dean, "this is way above my pay grade."

"Just a bit," he agreed.

"So, then why am I still breathing?" asked Dean, confused. "Why are we both still breathing, sitting here with you? Wh-what do you want?"

"The leash around my neck—off."

The lightning flashed in time with the sound of his annoyance and Rose was starting to understand the link. The rain was coming down harder outside as well.

"Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell," he said the word 'spell' like it was a curse. "He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to _you_. I had to wait for _you_ to catch up."

The lightning was flashing more frequently now and the wind was knocking the umbrellas free from the grips of those walking.

"He made me his weapon," he explained further. "Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum."

"And you think… _I_ can unbind you?"

"There's your ridiculous bravado again," he sighed. "Of course you can't. But you can help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun."

There was a pause as they tried to digest what they were being told. They couldn't free Death directly, but he wanted their help in taking down Lucifer? By taking down Lucifer it would then, in turn, free Death. Were they going to be teaming up with Death the Horseman of the Apocalypse?

"I understand you want this."

Calmly, he brought up his right hand and the ring was brought to their attention. Similar to the others, the band was made of silver and set with a square white stone, the color setting it apart from its brothers.

"Yeah…"

"I'm inclined to give it to you."

Rose could barely keep the panic and worry suppressed. They needed the ring more than anything. Oh stars, they were going to be making a deal with Death…

"To give it to me?"

"That's what I said."

Dean glanced toward her and tentatively asked, "But what about…Chicago?"

Thunder and lightning crashed simultaneously, filling the room with bright light again and she could've sworn that the dishes rattled.

"I suppose it can stay." Death looked over at her and she remained as still as possible under his stare. "I like the pizza."

He slipped off the ring, turning it so the stone was facing forward again for them to see.

"There are conditions."

"Okay," agreed Dean. "Like?"

"You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell."

"Of course."

" _Whatever_ it takes."

"That's the plan."

Unease filled her stomach at his word choice and how intently he was staring at Dean. A sympathetic frown pulled at the corner of her mouth. He was talking about Sam's plan. Where he says "yes" and jumps into the cage himself. The one that promises Sam to hell for eternity.

"No. No plan. Not yet," said Death. "Your brother. He's the one that can stop Lucifer. The _only_ one."

Dean's voice wavered. "What, you think—"

"I know."

That quieted him.

"So, I need a promise," he said. "That you're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit."

There was a twitch of muscle as Dean clenched his jaw tightly, but he didn't argue.

"Well, do I have your word?"

It took a moment before he wet his lips and answered. "Okay, yeah. Yes."

"That had better be "Yes," Dean. You know you can't cheat Death."

As soon as the ring dropped into Dean's outstretched hand, the thunderstorm outside came to a complete stop. The rain stopped falling, the roar of the storm quieted, and the clouds began to part.

"Now, would you like the instruction manual?"

As Death began to explain how to use the Horseman's ring, Rose could only partially listen. If this what it would take to beat Lucifer and stop the Apocalypse, she made a fierce promise to herself.

If everything went according to Death's plan, Sam Winchester would throw himself into the cage.

Okay.

Then when she went to hell she would break him out.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Your thoughts would be much loved as always! Sorry for the long wait, but I think I'm going to try and keep the chapters episode length if that's good with you guys.**

 **So, a bit of a rollercoaster this chapter and next is Swan Song, so I'm getting all prepped for that one. I'll try to be more frequent with the updates, I really will try. I'm having so much fun with this story and already have ideas brewing for future chapters.**

 **Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Five**

* * *

Only Rose and Dean returned from the meeting with Death in Chicago. Crowley, according to Dean, had vanished once they confirmed the Horseman's location. Although it worried her that he wasn't present, there wasn't too much time for her to spend fretting over the demon when they needed to focus on deal they just made with Death.

Sam needed to say yes to Lucifer, become his vessel, and then jump into the cage. The cage that they now had the key to open. The plan let a bad taste in her mouth and her nerves fluttered in apprehension. What it went wrong? What if this was still Lucifer's plan? If Death was telling the truth and he was really was chained, then couldn't he be feeding them misinformation? Maybe not by his own will, but Lucifer's?

Needless to say, the drive back was silent, both passengers lost in thought.

She was ruffling her damp hair when the others made it back to the salvage yard. She and Dean had gotten back first and she was able to use the time to wash her clothes and take a quick shower. Dean had shown her where everything was and lent her some of his clothes to change into while her clothes were being cleaned. She was immensely relieved to wash her filthy hair and scrub her skin until it was raw. As soon as the dryer finished she changed back into her work uniform she originally arrived in. Folding the borrowed clothes nicely and setting them on top of the washer, she did keep wearing the oversized jacket. It was silly, but having the extra layer made her feel a bit safer.

Bobby, Castiel, and Sam all entered the home looking tired but relatively unharmed. She still checked quickly for any signs of blood and let loose a breath when she didn't see any. There wasn't much said between the two groups, just the bare minimum from Dean, stating that they got the ring. Then he walked off. Bobby looked from his retreating figure and back to her with a sigh.

"Anything else?

"Well…" She glanced back and saw Dean disappear around the corner. "Death spared Chicago because he liked the pizza?"

"Can't say I'm even surprised at this point," said Bobby. Castiel seemed to be the only one who looked perplexed at her statement, evident by the furrowing of the brow and his frown. The older hunter made his way to the study and the angel followed after him, leaving Rosette and Sam standing alone in the entryway. She tried to smile but it didn't quite feel right, the corner of her mouth twitching downward.

"Hey…d-do you mind if we talk?" she dared to ask.

The edges of his eyes tightened slightly at her tone and he gave a nod.

"Yeah. Sure," he agreed. "Let's step outside."

The door rattled behind them as they made their way out into the salvage yard. Sam led the way and the girl was trying her best to keep up with his long legged stride. The Impala came into view, clearly the nicest looking vehicle in the yard. Sam popped open the trunk and pulled out an old drink cooler, the ice sloshing around from the movement. He opened the lid and pulled out a beer, holding the neck of the bottle out to her.

She wasn't one to drink, to be perfectly honest, but with the way the week was going, she wasn't going to turn one down either.

"Thanks."

He shut the trunk before making his way to another vehicle a little further in the yard and set the cooler down on the ground by the passenger side tire. Grabbing a drink for himself, he took a seat on the hood of the car and leaned against the windshield, one leg stretched out. It struck her then just how tall he was, mostly due to the fact that most people couldn't use the front of a car as a recliner.

Popping the cap off with a hiss, he gestured for her to take a seat next to him. She made her way around to the other side and gingerly joined him. Crossing her legs Indian style, she opened her drink as well, taking a small sip to wet her lips.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" asked Sam. "I'm sure you have a million questions. You've been thrown into this whirlwind of a mess after all."

"It's not so much about the whirlwind. Maybe I'm still in shock," she said with a breathy laugh. She paused for another small drink. "I...I wanted to talk to you about your plan…"

"My plan?" he repeated. She nodded.

"The Put-Lucifer-Back-In-The-Cage Plan," she reiterated.

"Okay," he agreed slowly. "What did you want to know about it? It's pretty straight forward. I say "Yes" to Lucifer and then jump into the cage."

"Right…" She took a breath and turned so that she could face the younger Winchester. He raised a brow at her change in posture and she took another breath.

"I just…I just want you to know that I promise that I'll get you out of there."

He lowered his drink and his gaze turned serious.

"Look…I-I don't know what you've heard from Dean, but once I jump into the Pit, that's it. You guys can't go poking at it—who knows what'll knock it loose again."

"Maybe—but what if I get you out on the hell side?" she suggested. "It wouldn't be a, um, direct cage-to-earth escape route. What if, I get you out in hell and then you make your way topside? It would be an extra step but it could also prevent Lucifer from having a straight shot to freedom, just in case."

He studied her for a hard moment before asking.

"Why?"

She allowed her confusion to be apparent. "Why what?"

"Why promise this?" he asked. "Why stay here? Why haven't you asked to go home? We wouldn't hold it against you, this is a global catastrophe–the end of the world. You don't owe us."

"This isn't about owing anyone anything," she said sternly. "It's about doing the right thing. Like you said, it's the end of the world and I'm am more than happy to help do whatever I can to keep this earth spinning. And you guys are doing so much and it's not—it's just not _fair_ …!"

Her voice dared to crack with emotion and she had to look away, struggling to keep frustrated tears at bay.

Sam's voice was soft when he spoke again.

"There's not much fair about this whole situation," he told her gently. "We've lost good people in our line of work and especially fighting against Lucifer. Friends. Family. People who have died because they trusted us. Both Dean and I have actually died along the way."

She looked back up at him quickly at his words.

"You…you've died?"

He took another drink while hers remained forgotten in her grasp.

"When I died…Dean sold his soul for me to come back," he recalled, his voice somber. "Instead of ten years, he only got one since demons don't exactly like us. We couldn't find any way to break his contract and the Hellhounds came for him."

Her body gave an involuntary shudder at the mention of the hounds. That was to be her fate as well.

"In Dean's case, Castiel pulled him out of hell," he continued. "And, anyway…i-it's my fault that Lucifer's free…"

She heard the catch in his voice and she saw that he was no longer looking at her. Green eyes were staring forward, seeing beyond what was in front of him. Her heart ached at the sight of his thousand yard stare and it only steeled her resolve.

"I understand what you're saying," she said quietly. "Regardless of that, I still promise."

* * *

When they were on the road again, it was Bobby who explained to her why they needed to collect demon blood.

In order to be Lucifer's vessel, Sam needed to ingest demon's blood in order to withstand the sheer power of the fallen angel, otherwise even his body would rupture. After her stomach stopped rolling at the idea of drinking _gallons_ _of blood_ , she had asked why neither one of the boys were too put off by the errand. Bobby sighed and then informed her of Sam's history with the substance. She was quiet as she listened to him backtrack the boys' history with demons, and Sam's in particular. When he was finished, she simply nodded in understanding.

The drive was quiet as Rosette poured over the paperwork Bobby brought for the ride, scouring the pages for possible signs that could point them toward Lucifer. Unusual deaths, potential plagues, bizarre weather changes, anything that could put them on the right track. When they came to a stop, she and Bobby opened up the back of the van and she showed him what she found so far, laying out the paperwork in case a pattern became apparent from a new perspective.

The boys and Castiel were sneaking into a potential demon hideout in order to collect the blood as they researched. She tried not to let her thoughts dwell too long on the nauseating task, turning her attention back to the piles of papers. She had to help them somehow and looking up information was all she could do. No tidbit of news was too small and she set aside the clipping about Detroit, Michigan dropping temperature in a five block radius. It could be nothing but she didn't want to risk missing anything. Not to mention, it seemed like a too localize oddity of weather to ignore, in her opinion.

It took some time before the others exited the building, Sam and Castiel each carrying two gallons of dark blood. Dean brought up the rear, hands empty and expression serious. He made his way toward the van, rubbing away at a smear of blood on his cheek. He looked at Bobby and gave a little scoff

"I still can't get used to you at eye level."

The older hunter gave an amused smirk. "So, was I right?"

"As always, Yoda," he agreed. "Two stunt demons inside, just like you said."

"Did you get it?"

He sighed. "Yeah, all the "go juice" Sammy can drink."

Rose could feel the tension in the air and quietly excused herself so that the two could be alone. Her guess was correct when she heard Bobby ask, his voice fading as she moved away,

"You okay?"

She made her way over to Castiel and Sam to give the others some space. They closed the trunk before she could get a close-up of the "donated" blood.

"You guys all right?" she asked.

"Yeah," said Sam, glancing back toward his brother. He cleared his throat. "So, uh, you guys get anything? Any omens?"

"Well," she began, listing the points on her fingers. "There was a cyclone in Florida, a temperature drop in Detroit, wildfires in L.A.—"

"Wait, what's so strange about the Detroit one?" he asked.

"Um, the temperature dropped about twenty degrees in a five block radius in downtown Detroit," she clarified. "I thought that was pretty weird and Bobby agreed, though it doesn't really seem like a precursor to the end of the world, does it?"

"Maybe," he said slowly. "Or it could be a result of Lucifer simply being there. We can't ignore anything at this point."

She stiffly nodded in agreement. Her worried grew when she noticed Sam trying to make eye contact with his brother and Dean sighed and looked away from him. The unease was making her stomach roll again. Now wasn't the time for the two not to be getting along.

* * *

According to Dean, the lead to follow was the Detroit, Michigan one. He was absolutely certain that Lucifer would be there. While she was happy that she found the correct omen, the spark of pride fizzled out when the fact settled in that they were on their way to meet the devil himself.

She switched over to ride with the boys in the Impala and began to work on where exactly Lucifer was hiding out. She had the map sprawled out over her lap and the newspaper in one hand while she worked out the exact radius in Detroit. Next, she had to find the exact center and that was the best bet to be the devil's hiding spot. It took a little bit of time to work it out because she didn't want to be wrong or send them on some wild goose chase, but they were soon en route, the car racing down the road, Bobby's van right behind them.

Night had fallen and there didn't seem to be a single star in the sky. Rose didn't mean to fall asleep, with everything that had been happening she just tended to drop off whenever the opportunity arose. There was a sudden weight dropped onto her shoulder and she hardly even flinched, lashes fluttered as she glanced over to see Castiel asleep, having slumped over onto her side. She closed her eyes again, not bothered. She was too tired to care. He had to be exhausted too, so she wasn't going to be a jerk and wake him.

"Aw. Ain't he a little angel?" came Dean's voice. There was a pause and Sam's voice was next.

"Angels don't sleep."

She stole another glance at Castiel. His breathing was deep and even, his eyes closed, and his body slack. This time she closed her eyes while her mind was awake. She wouldn't be much help, but the least she could do watch out for him while he slept. It was a small gesture, miniscule in fact, but it was something. The brothers continued their conversation.

"Sam, I got a bad feeling about this."

"Well, you'd be crazy to have a _good_ feeling about this."

"You know what I mean," he said sternly. "Detroit. He always said he'd jump your bones in Detroit. Here we are."

"Here we are…"

"Maybe this is him rolling out the red carpet, you know?" continued Dean. "Maybe he knows something that we don't."

Sam gave a little laugh. "Dean, I'm sure he knows a buttload we don't. We just got to hope he doesn't know about the rings.

Rose did her best to keep her posture relaxed so to pass for sleeping. It was clearly a personal conversation and she felt bad for eavesdropping but she couldn't just "wake up." They clearly needed to talk and she wasn't about to intrude on a sibling moment. Their time together was running out.

"Hey, um…" started Sam, taking a deep breath. "On the subject, there's something I got to talk to you about."

"What?"

"This thing goes our way and I…triple Lindy into that box…"

A pause.

"…Y-you know I'm not coming back."

Dean hesitated for a moment, his tone stiff. "Yeah. I'm aware."

"So you got to promise me something," continued Sam.

"Okay. Yeah. Anything."

It took Sam a moment to find his words.

"You got to promise not to try to bring me back."

"What?" said Dean, alarmed. "No, I didn't sign up for that."

"Dean—"

"Your hell is gonna make my tour look like Graceland," he said. "Y-you want me just to sit by and do nothing?"

"Once the cage is shut, you _can't_ go poking at it, Dean," Sam emphasized. "I've already explained this to Rose. You've got to leave it alone. It's too risky."

"No, no, no, no, no. As if I'm just gonna let you rot in there."

"Yeah, you are. You don't have a choice," he said firmly.

"You can't ask me to do this."

"I'm sorry, Dean, but you _have_ to."

"So then what am I supposed to do?"

"You go find Lisa."

Dean scoffed but Sam persisted.

"You pray to God she's dumb enough to take you in, and you—you have barbeques and go to football games. You go live some normal, apple-pie life, Dean."

The older brother didn't say anything.

"Promise me."

The rest of the car ride was in silence.

* * *

They pulled the Impala into an empty alley, following the coordinates Rose had zeroed in on. They air was sharp with a chill and they all waited in the alley, no one saying anything. Bobby used his binoculars to get a closer look at a particular building, scoping out the potential location. Her heartbeat quickened due to her nerves and she folded her arms across her chest to try and keep her hands warm.

With a sigh, Bobby came back to the car where the rest of the group waited.

"Demons. At least two dozen of 'em," he said. "You were right—something's up."

"More than something," said Dean. "He's here. I know it."

Her palms began to sweat as he stalked off toward the back of the car, his shoulders stiff. Everyone was still while he unlocked the trunk and when it popped open, Sam took a deep breath and pushed off from the car. She watched uneasily from her spot beside Castiel as Bobby stepped toward Sam. There was a pause before he spoke.

"I'll see ya around, kid."

Sam nodded. "See ya around."

Her throat grew tight as the two hugged, both of their grips strong enough for her to see the material of their jackets being bunched up. She could see the shine of tears in the older man's eyes and she had to look away. She was starting to shake from the cold and the emotion of it all. She had to keep it together because if she started to cry, she was going to unravel entirely into a sobbing mess from the stress of everything. It was just so unfair, she could hardly stand it.

"He gets in…" said Bobby, a tremor in his voice. "You fight him tooth and nail, you understand? Keep swingin'. Don't give an inch."

"Yes, sir."

She dug her nails into her arms to try and keep from crying at the sight of Bobby having to turn away and Sam running a hand over his face to try and keep it together himself. Her eyes were beginning to burn and she had to look up to will the tears back.

He turned and moved toward Castiel, holding out his hand.

"Take care of these guys, okay?" he asked, trying to lighten his tone.

Cas let loose a light sigh and shook his head. "That's not possible."

He gave a dry laugh. "Then humor me."

"Oh. I was supposed to lie," realized Castiel. "Uh…Sure. They'll be fine. I—"

"Just—just stop…talking," said Sam, giving a weak smile.

Taking another breath, he stepped toward Rose and she tried to smile, but once again, her mouth wouldn't cooperate and it was more of a grimace.

"Well, it—it was nice to meet you," he said. "Sorry about the circumstances though." He held out his hand again and she shook her head.

"C'mon. I think we're past a handshake."

Instead, she stepped forward and threw her arms around him in a hug. He made a surprised sound at the sudden gesture and she made her grip as tight as she could despite the shaking. This boy was going to say "Yes" to Lucifer so that he could be thrown back into hell and into the cage. Forever. The least she could was give him a goddamn hug.

"I still promise…"

Her words were muffled by his jacket, but the returning grip of his hug confirmed that he heard.

Stiffly, Sam let go of her and walked toward his brother who was waiting with trunk popped open. He took a breath.

"You mind not watching this?"

Dean didn't say anything and walked away, shoulders tense. She saw Sam's jaw clench as he stared down at the gallons of blood. He reached out and slowly wrapped his fingers around the handle, pulling it closer to him. Closing his eyes, he picked it up and took one last deep breath.

Rosette looked away and made her way to the front of the alley with the others.

Nothing was said for the longest time as they waited.

They flinched at the sudden sound of the trunk being slammed shut and Rose turned back to see Sam breathing heavily and he marched forward. His energy was definitely up and he looked like he was ready for a fight.

"Okay," said Sam. "Let's go."

Dean looked back at them one last time before following after his little brother, who seemed to be all for storming the front door. He was shouting before they even crossed the street.

"All right! We're here, you sons of bitches! Come and get it!"

Bobby grabbed her and Castiel and quickly pulled them over to the side of the alley just before the front doors opened. Two people stepped out to meet the brothers and they were immediately dragged inside. Rose looked back between the hunter and the building.

"So…what do we do now?" she dared to ask.

Bobby gave a hard sigh. "We wait."

Simple enough.

But Rose was never good at waiting.

It didn't take too long for her to start pacing back and forth in the alley, watching the building intently. She couldn't bring herself to be completely still, always moving or tapping her foot or fingers. Even when she was younger she couldn't be still when she was anxious. It drove her parents crazy when she would fidget and pace. It was especially bad when they were at the hospital when Grace was younger. No matter how badly she tried to keep a brave face, some tick would make itself known and give away her true feelings. Nearly ten years later and her habits were still the same.

There was a sudden change in the air, a feeling of electricity, and she came to a halt beside Castiel as they all looked up at the building. They all seemed to be holding their breath in apprehension. She didn't dare tear her gaze away but she did grab the hand nearest to her, squeezing tightly.

The second floor became flooded with light as brilliant as lightning. That had to be Lucifer taking Sam as his vessel, she reasoned. They weren't waiting for long because a short moment later a deep rumbling broke out.

"The cage has been opened," stated Castiel.

"Yeah, no shit," snapped Bobby.

The deep sound of the door to the cage being opened also didn't last long. Was that a good thing? Bad? Maybe it was good? Maybe that meant that Sam was able to keep control? Maybe it was all over?

"How—how long do we wait?" she asked.

Bobby loaded up the shotgun. "We've waited enough."

She nodded and didn't hesitate to follow after the hunter and the angel. They burst through the front door and were met with zero resistance. She didn't know if that was a good sign or not.

They rushed up the flight of stairs to the floor where all the light had shone from earlier. Once they entered the room, Rose saw that Dean was the only person standing, his hands running through his hair as he looked around. Bodies littered the floor and there was no sign of Sam anywhere. She carefully stepped over a man with blonde hair, his skin red and irritated near his eyes. He was the only one not dressed in a suit and she had an uneasy feeling about him.

Dean turned at the sound of their arrival and she could see his green eyes shining with tears.

"He's gone…" he managed to croak. "Bobby…he's gone. Lucifer…he got him…"

She shared a terrified look with Castiel and her stomach dropped to her toes. The end of the world…it was on its way…

* * *

"Reports are flooding in—a 7.6 earthquake in Portland, 8.1 in Boston, more in Hong Kong, Berlin, and Tehran. The U.S.G.S. has no explanation but says to expect a six-figure death toll."

The four of them stood outside of an electronic store, watching the news unfold from the display television sets.

"It's starting," stated Castiel.

"Yeah, you think, genius?" snarked Dean, unimpressed.

"You don't have to be mean," sighed the angel.

Rose piped up before arguing could break out. They didn't need to be fighting right now. The world was ending.

"So—what do we do?"

"Red's right. What's the plan?" asked Dean.

Castiel sighed and gave a shrug. "I suggest we imbibe copious quantities of alcohol…just wait for the inevitable blast wave."

"Swell. Thank you, Bukowski."

It took her a moment to find her voice. She was floored by the angel's response.

"Wh-what? You can't be serious!" she stammered.

"How do we stop it?" added Dean. Castiel looked between the two of them, brow furrowed.

"We don't."

"You can't mean that," she found herself arguing. "You're—you're an angel, a soldier of God…!"

"Lucifer _will_ meet Michael on the chosen field, and the Battle of Armageddon begins," he explained. He gave her a sad look. "My status as an angel will not change that."

"Okay, well, where's this chosen field?" asked Dean.

She nodded in agreement. "Right—maybe we can still stop it!"

"I don't know."

"Well, there's got to be something we can do!" he snapped.

"I'm sorry, Dean, Rosette. This is over," Castiel said sadly

"You can't mean that," she said again, her voice shaking. "We can't just give up! The battle hasn't happened yet so we still have time!"

Dean didn't look away from the angel. "You listen to me, you junkless sissy—we are _not_ giving up!"

His rant was interrupted when the older hunter joined them. "Bobby?"

When he didn't answer, Dean's voice started to shake. "Bobby?"

Rose felt her spirits sink when she saw the hopelessness written on his face.

"There was never much hope to begin with," he said quietly. "I don't know what else to do."

When she saw Dean's shoulders start to fall, the words started to spill out of her mouth.

"We still—we still have time!" she protested. "If we can find out where the battle is, we could still stop them before it starts! We could separate them or—or—or talk to them! The fight doesn't _have_ to happen…right?"

* * *

Dean had driven off a short while ago, muttering about a guy he needed to call. The three of them were left behind to wait. After a few moments of quiet, Rose asked if she could borrow a cell phone. After all, her personal belongings were left back in Illinois from when Castiel originally abducted her.

Ironically, the very same angel offered up his phone at her request. After thanking him, she explained that she was just going to be around the corner to make the call with a little privacy. Bobby seemed wary of the idea of her wandering off but eventually agreed.

"Don't go too far. If you need us, just shout."

She nodded. "Thanks."

Rounding the corner of the neighboring alley, she leaned against the brick wall and studied the phone in her hands. She had to make the call, that much was obvious, but she was clueless as to what to say. Where did she even begin? How much should she explain?

Taking a deep breath, she dialed the number she knew by heart and was certain to block her own number from appearing. It wouldn't do anyone any good if the call could be returned. There just wasn't enough time.

The phone started to ring and she could feel her pulse pick up, her heart beating within her chest with fervor. Her palms became clammy as the ringing continued and she closed her eyes when the voicemail recording began to play. On one hand, she was relieved and on the other, she was disappointed she couldn't hear their voice in real time.

The beep sounded and she had to start talking.

"Hey, Grace. It's Rose…"

She couldn't stop the words from pouring out of her and she couldn't remember what she said. Her words were quick, thrown together, and most likely making little sense, but she had to get them out before the voicemail cut her off. She had to let her know that she was okay. Maybe it was cruel for both of them, in a way, to reach out to her with no way of her responding back.

Staring hard at the phone in her hands, her thoughts were allowed to wander.

She would give anything to go back to the way things were, to the simplicity of life. Of course, it was her family and hometown. On the other hand, she would also stay and fight with the hunters just as passionately. It was the first time she was with others who understood everything that she studied in secret. There was the thrill of doing something that mattered as well, instead of tiptoeing around everything and everyone to keep from attracting attention. Back home, she did her best to stay out of the way and keep her head down so not to draw attention to herself. She was already a private person but after the deal, she drew further into herself. In a way, she thought if she kept her distance from others it would minimize the impact of her inevitable death. While it made sense in a logical fashion, it was a stifling way to live, acting a certain way to keep everyone happy.

But now…it was like a breath of fresh air to be so fully honest and to be free from judgement from what she did nearly ten years ago.

"You'll burn a hole right through it if you keep staring at it like that."

Heart jumping to her throat, she immediately brought her fists up and her back pressed against the wall. From the shadows on the other side of the alley, she let loose a breath of relief when she recognized the figure.

"Crowley…"

He smirked. "Hello, darling."

Taking in his familiar frame, the same overcoat and suit as always, she smiled.

"I'm glad you're okay. You had me worried when you disappeared after the meeting with Death." She slipped the phone into the jacket's pocket. "You are okay, right?"

He clicked his tongue with disappointment. "Always with the doubt, are we?"

"People usually call it concern," she returned with a teasing smile. "You know I don't doubt you."

"Still, it is strange hearing a human's concern for a demon such as myself," he clarified as he stepped closer. "In fact, it's due to your…oddity that I'm here."

"Oddity?" she repeated. "Most would just say that I'm being nice."

"I'm not most."

"Fair enough," she shrugged. "So, what about my oddity brings you here?"

He was standing closer than before and she welcomed the heat he provided, a relief against the Detroit chill. She often forgot that he was taller than her but was swiftly reminded as he looked down at her, his hazel eyes dark.

"I've come to offer you a deal."

She was stunned into silence for a moment.

"A-a deal? What for?" she stammered. "I don't have anything else to offer you."

"Consider it more of favor from yours truly," he rephrased.

"A favor?"

"That's what I said."

She was quiet as she studied him. His clean shaven face and light brown hair. The all-piercing gaze matching his all black attire. For as long as she had known him, he wasn't one to do something without a reason. It was usually something that benefited him, but he always had a reason.

"Okay, and what is this favor?" she dared to ask.

The pause was very slight before he spoke, but it was enough for her to notice. As someone who spoke with such sureness, the hesitation was out of place.

"Crowley—"

"I can collect your deal early," he said, speaking over her. "Call your contract to task, so to speak."

The color immediately drained from her face at his words and her chest began to heave as she tried to catch her breath. Panic constricted her heart like a vice.

"C-collect—my deal?" she wheezed. "What do you—what do you mean? My soul—you want—you want…"

"Rosette—"

"You—want to _kill_ me?"

She squeezed her eyes shut when his hand left his coat pocket and she couldn't keep the whimper from escaping. His hand was warm against her cheek and she flinched terribly at the touch.

" _Rosette_."

She remained still, eyes closed as her body trembled. Her back was flush against the brick wall and the demon was directly in front of her, rendering her pinned.

"What I'm offering you is a choice."

His hand trailed from her cheek to her hair, brushing back the loose strands and tucking them back where they belonged. Slowly, she opened her eyes at his soft touch and glanced up at him, trying to catch her breath.

"The world is going to end bloody, so I'm providing you with a different option."

"You're…you're offering to kill me early?" she said weakly, trying to wrap her head around his proposition. "To call the hounds?"

"No. No hounds," he corrected. "It'll just be me."

A way out…no hellhounds…

"I promise, it won't hurt."

Crowley watched his contract carefully as she thought over his proposal. She had gone alabaster when she originally heard his offer and realized that it would include her death. Like he said, the world was ending with Lucifer and Michael's fight. It didn't hurt to collect one more soul before the humans were eradicated. Demon kind would be next, that he knew.

What he was suggesting was a mercy killing. She wouldn't have to crash and burn with the rest of the humanity. It would be quick, painless even. Not to mention that he would get to feel the surge of power that came with collecting a soul. One last high before he was destroyed. It was a shame. He was looking forward to the eternal servitude part of her contract. Actually, her contract was always his favorite as it had more than one benefit for him. It was nearly impossible to find good help in hell.

Her soul had always been a favorite of his, even when the deal was initially struck he knew there was something different about hers. He still had yet to put a finger on what the exact reasoning was, but perhaps it was due to the constant exposure that warmed him to her, just the slightest bit. They saw each other every year on the day they originally met, becoming a little tradition he found himself enjoying. Depending on where he spent most of his year, on earth or in hell, from his perspective it could be decades between their visits.

He knew it was a foolish habit to keep, visiting a human beyond forging the contract, but the irrationality of the task didn't seem to bother him. He was allowed one little luxury, if it could be called that.

"I can't…"

His brow knitted in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

Blue eyes were bright as she met and held his gaze.

"I can't accept your deal…not when there's still a chance of stopping the fight."

"This isn't just some _fight_ ," he criticized. "This is Armageddon. You're talking about getting between two of heaven's most powerful angels and, what, _pray_ they stop if you ask nicely?"

"There's still time—"

"—It's the end of the world—a juggernaut that's been set into motion. You can't stop it—"

"—If I go with you then it's a guarantee that it'll all end, but if I stay—"

"—You _will_ die," he said sternly, grabbing the front of her oversized jacket. "I cannot make meaning any plainer. They. Will. Kill. You."

Her mouth twitched in a grimace before she managed to give him a sad sort of smile, her hands softly resting on top of his own.

"Maybe," she admitted. "But…there's still time. I've got to help while I can. I can't just quit."

There was the rumble of the Impala's engine, announcing Dean's return. The two of them glanced toward the sound and he found that it took an extra moment to unclench his fists from her borrowed jacket.

"Well, if you're insisting on this suicide run—"

The demon was promptly cut off when the human threw her arms around his neck, making him take a step back from her surprising strength. She was warm against him, he noticed, and he could feel her soft hair against his cheek as she hugged him tightly.

"A bit unorthodox, don't you think?" he commented dryly after a moment.

"Oh hush," she said. "Everything about this whole situation is unorthodox."

When she started to pull back, he felt something else softly brush his cheek. It was so slight and so quick, had he been anyone else he wouldn't have noticed it.

"Be careful, okay?" she asked.

"That's perfectly rich after hearing your plan," he scoffed, "but staying alive is what I do best, darling. Don't fret."

She gave him one last smile before turning heel and jogging back to the hunters. He made certain that she returned to the group before teleporting away.

* * *

The gates were rusted and thrown wide open when they pulled up to Stull Cemetery in Lawrence, Kansas. It was nearly noon, the time foreseen by the prophet, Chuck. Dean had explained that Chuck had "seen" where the showdown would begin due to his status as a prophet of the Lord, and Rose didn't even bother to ask questions. There wasn't enough time as it was, plus even if she was to ask, she felt like she would need years to catch up.

"Last chance to back out," warned Dean. "No hard feelings."

She swallowed with difficulty and gripped the interior door handle tightly, sending up one last prayer.

"I'm not going anywhere."

The engine revved and Dean shoved the cassette tape into the player, blasting out Rock of Ages at such a volume the windows vibrated.

 _All right, I got something to say._

The '67 Impala made its way across the dried up grounds, bumping over the uneven landscape. They could see the two figures standing at the center, prowling around the other like large cats, looking for the first opportune moment. One being Sam, or at least his body, while the other person was Adam, the half-brother to the Winchesters. Not Michael's true vessel, but a good enough substitute because Dean refused to say "Yes."

 _Hey, it's better to burn out, yeah, then fade away._

The angels stilled and turned to glare at them in sync at the sudden intrusion. Rose's palms began to sweat at being under their glare while Dean simply threw the car into park, shut off the engine, and the door creaked as he opened it.

 _All right._

"Howdy, boys."

 _We're gonna burn the damn place down._

Taking one last breath, she mimicked him and stepped out as well, staying behind the safety of the passenger door.

 _Down to the ground._

"Sorry. Are we interrupting something?" he asked coolly.

When neither angel said anything, he closed his door and started to walk around to the front, eyes on Sam.

"Hey. We need to talk."

She swallowed thickly as Michael and Lucifer seemed to share an annoyed glance. When Lucifer smirked, she quietly closed her own door and dared to step closer. Even though it was Sam's body, the expression looked wrong. Dangerous, in a way.

"Dean. Even for you," he said, eyes narrowing, "this is a whole new mountain of stupid."

"I'm not talking to _you_ ," growled Dean. "I'm talking to _Sam_."

Michael's voice came from Adam. "You're no longer the vessel, Dean. You've got no right to be here. Least of all with your little friend."

Rose felt the bottom of her stomach fall away at the angel's sneer.

"Adam, if you're in there somewhere," said Dean, his voice somber. "I am so sorry."

" _Adam_ isn't home right now."

The way he spoke of the boy he was inhabiting made chills run down her spine.

"Well, then you're next on my list, buttercup," he promised. "But right now, I need five minutes with _him_."

"You little maggot," seethed Michael, marching forward as he raised his voice. "You are no longer a part of this story!"

A now-familiar voice rang out in response.

"Hey, ass-butt!"

Everyone turned to look and Rose was so relieved to see Bobby and Castiel, the latter holding a bottle of alcohol with a flaming cloth. He launched the bottle with such speed, she only saw Michael suddenly burst into flame before she register what had happened. Ducking down beside the car, she watched with open horror as the fire engulfed him rapidly and turned his skin black. His scream rang across the cemetery, ringing sharply in her ears. The sound was so out of this world and it shook her down to her core, her eyes watering as well.

Then, he was gone from the battlefield.

Dean spoke up first, looking to the angel in a trench coat.

"Ass-butt?"

"He'll be back—and upset—" he explain, out of breath, "—but you got your five minutes."

Sam's voice laced with Lucifer's intent came next.

"Castiel."

Lucifer slowly made eye contact, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. He was poised like a snake about to strike.

"Did you just Molotov my brother with holy fire?"

He lifted his arm in a useless gesture as he stammered, "Uh…no."

"No one dicks with Michael but _me_."

He lifted his hand up and snapped his fingers.

Rose didn't know what she was expecting. He was the fallen angel with immeasurable power. She just knew that she didn't expect Castiel's body to combust on a molecular level. The sound of the snap finishing was indicated by the opposing angel bursting into bloody splatters across the scene. A shriek escaped her, the hot liquid spraying against her cheek from the force.

Stunned silence rang out in the realization that Castiel was gone, vaporized from existence. Dean slowly turned to his brother.

"Sammy, can you hear me?"

"You know…" he began. "I tried to be nice…for Sammy's sake."

Lucifer turned toward Dean and Rose pushed herself back up to her feet, sensing the overwhelming danger. His voice was soft but the clarity was crystal as well as his intent. He was going to hurt them. Kill them at the very least.

"But you…are such a pain…" Slowly his hands reached out to grab the front of the hunter's jacket, Dean not taking a step back. "…in my ass."

With a simple push, Dean was thrown back into the Impala and Rose had to dive to the side to avoiding being hit unintentionally by his body or the shards of glass. She looked up to see Sam's figure marching toward him and the movement was followed by a gunshot. Lucifer didn't even flinch at the injury. He only turned his glare to Bobby, who cocked the gun again and shot the second round straight into his heart. He didn't so much as twitch, only looking down to glance at what would've have been a fatal shot to any human.

Bobby gave a shrug, unsure of what else he could've done.

Lucifer lifted his hand again and gave a quick motion with his wrist. Immediately, Bobby's neck twisted at a sharp, unnatural angle and his body dropped like a stone.

" _NO_!"

He was dead before he hit the ground.

"Yes," mocked Lucifer, pulling Dean forward by his leg. He brought his fist up and clocked him full in the face, sending him to the ground at the girl's feet.

Rosette's mind was whirling a thousand miles a minute, trying to comprehend what was happening since it was all unraveling so fast. Her thoughts were jumbled, only able to catch on to snippets of the past few moments.

Castiel fought him and died.

Bobby fought him and died.

Each method of attack resulted in an instantaneous death. Dean was still alive and he wasn't using any weapons. There wasn't anything in the world that she could think that would give her an advantage against the devil himself. She wasn't very strong or fast, and in this situation, being a fair shot with a gun was as useless as spitting on a wildfire. Seeing Dean at her feet, trying so hard to save his brother, even as blood steadily poured from his mouth from the force of the hit, the answer was simple.

She couldn't stop him but she could buy time.

And, well, that seemed to be the only thing she was good at.

Not giving herself the opportunity to think, she leapt over Dean and propelled herself directly at his brother. She tried to think of it as just Sam and that it was like before, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in the material of his jacket. This time, the instant her body collided with his, she knew she was in trouble.

His body burned with unbridled cold.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tighten her hold, pressing against the biting chill, begging,

"Sam—please!"

His muscles coiled tightly beneath her and he let out a scoff.

"I can't believe this."

Large hands grabbed her arms tightly and she was suddenly lifted off her feet. Her breathing quickened as she found herself eye level with Sam and under Lucifer's frosty glare.

"So. You think Sam's still here?"

The air cut past her and she didn't hear the crunch of metal due to her ears ringing, only vaguely understanding that she was now on her back, the grey sky stretched above her.

"You really think he would somehow break free because _you_ asked?"

This time he grabbed the front of her jacket and she felt the material tighten just before being lifted and slammed back down onto the hood. Her vision seemed to tremble and she could stare up at him, the wind sufficiently knocked from her.

"You, some girl that only just appeared?"

The blood began to steadily crawl down the back of her neck when he crashed her body into the car for the third time. She could have sworn that she could see some kind of figure behind him flickering out of focus and her first thought was that there were wings. That could easily be blamed on the head trauma she was enduring.

Dean pushed himself upright, still swaying, and he reached out to grab Sam's arm.

"Sammy—stop…!"

With a flex of strength, the taller Winchester sent him spinning to the ground with the back of his fist.

"Don't worry. _Sammy_ will get to you next," he promised. Eyes blazing, he leaned in close to the girl, his breath brushing against her skin.

"You're just a ticking time bomb."

His knuckles connected with her face in a cross, snapping her head to one side. She couldn't coordinate her body to move, her legs still and numb.

"And you know what?" he laughed. "I'm not even going to make this quick for you."

She couldn't flinch as his other fist knocked her head the opposite way. It was as if her very nerves were on fire and she could just barely gasp for air.

"It's so _sad_ how hard you're trying to be helpful. How _badly_ you want to be their friend."

There was a crunch that echoed in her head as her nose broke with a snap and she gagged on the sudden deluge of blood that seemed to fill her throat.

"What could you even do? You're nothing more than cannon fodder."

Next, his fist sank into her stomach and a spray of aerial blood escaped her lips. Gasping, she couldn't inhale while her lungs and diaphragm were traumatized from the crushing pressure.

Dean's voice sounded again and he grabbed Sam's wrist.

"Sammy—"

His other hand pushed him away without even touching him, pinning him to the ground.

" _Wait your turn._ "

His hands slipped around her neck and she could feel the cold radiate from his body. With immense effort, Rose managed to lift her arms, scraping for some kind of hold. She managed to catch on his wrists, struggling to fight back in some way. Her nails began to dig into his skin, the only part of herself that could move.

"S-Sam…" she wheezed through clenched teeth. It was hard to see with her face swelling from the hits and everything was starting to blur and darken.

"I…st—ill…..p…promise…"

"Oh, little Rose has some thorns?"

Her bones creaked under the weight and pressure of his body leaning into hers, pushing her further into the metal hood of the car. A strangled cry could be heard as she felt each set of her ribs begin to shatter like glass from the force. Her nose and throat were becoming congealed with thick blood and everything was darkening even while she tried her best to focus all her strength into her hands to try and obtain some relief. Her nails sunk deeper into his skin but there was no reprieve, in fact, his strength seemed to increase.

With a short laugh, he threw his weight into her and there was a gunshot-like snap from her spine in between her shoulder blades and her arms fell to her side. Her chest attempted to lift with a breath but her lungs refused to cooperate, unable to inflate. She tried to cry out but her body couldn't manage the simple act as it was shutting down.

For some reason she was still aware of the faint imagery of multiple wings blooming from Sam's back. They were bright in her dimming gaze and she was dully reminded that Lucifer was an angel. In the back of her mind, she understood that this was an appropriate fate for her. Beaten by an angel, suffering under heavenly power. She sold her soul to a demon so it only made sense that she would spur heaven's wrath. The ultimate irony was that her fate was being dealt by Lucifer, the fallen angel and the devil himself. The morning star.

The sharp chill vanished as Lucifer stepped away but her body was steadily becoming colder. Pain made everything numb, she had to actively focus on trying to breathe still but even that was slipping away. She couldn't keep up with what her body needed and the pressure building up in her chest from the lack of oxygen was becoming too much. She couldn't hear anymore. The air that once was a bitter sting now was nothing. There was only blackness that became deeper and darker with each passing second.

Her body started to lose its heaviness and it was like she was floating in a sea of nothingness.

This was the end. She was dying, if she wasn't dead already.

Soon, she was falling. Gathering more and more speed with every second that it lost the sensation off a fall and became more like a pull. She was being yanked down somewhere unimaginably deep. The inky black that was her world started to change, sparks of light flickering past. It took her a moment to recognize them as licks of fire and everything was becoming warmer.

 _Oh god, I'm going to hell_.

As soon as finished the thought, her existence exploded into a blinding, brilliant white light.

The same grey sky was above her once again and the air felt sharp as she took a sudden deep breath, her lungs expanding fully. It took an extra moment for her to feel the touch against her temple and her wide eyes found the person leaning over her, trying to focus on the figure.

"Cas…tiel..?"

He gave a little smile and a nod, his eyes so bright compared to the darkness she was previously drowning in. She slowly pushed herself upright, entire body trembling, but she didn't bother to check the rest of her for lingering pain or injuries before she threw her arms around his neck. He made a surprised sound at her sudden affection but she didn't care, hugging him tightly.

"Th-thank you…" she whispered, voice daring to crack. "Thank you…!"

"You're, um, quite welcome," he said slowly. He didn't return the hug properly, settling for awkwardly patting her back instead.

Pulling away, she dared to look around and she saw Bobby standing as well, a little unsteady on his feet but alive as well. Ignoring her own shaking body, she pushed herself off the hood of the Impala and stumbled over to him, her arms soon around him in a hug as well. He grunted at her grip and gingerly returned the gesture as well.

"Good to see ya, kid."

Her footing a bit more sure now, she turned to see Dean standing a few steps away, staring hard the key of the Four Horsemen's rings in the palm of his hand. Looking around to be certain, there was no sign of the fallen angel and the fact that they were all alive again had to mean that Lucifer was back in the cage.

Which meant that Sam was locked away in the cage.

She crossed the distance between them, again, without thinking. She could only imagine what was going through his head. His brother was trapped in hell with the devil himself. The guilt and sadness had to be clawing away at him, maybe subdued by the shock. She was no stranger to such despairing thoughts and emotions. There were countless nights where she would lie awake, mentally struggling to come to terms that maybe her little sister was going to die. Then, after the deal, she have sleepless nights over the grief she would cause for her sister when the Hellhounds would come for her and how it would break her heart. That she would be causing that heartache.

He didn't flinch when she wrapped her arms around him. First, he was as still as a statue, completely unmoving. Refusing to back down, she held her ground and after a moment, his arms were around her. She felt her ribs creak under his grip but she only held on to him tighter still. It had to be hurting him so much and she wouldn't waver. Not when someone needed her.

She was saved once by the grace of an angel and she knew it wouldn't happen again. She didn't deserve it. There was only so much time left for her and she had to get to work and learn as much as she could about hell and the cage. They saved the world from ending and they didn't deserve the anguish of losing their brother. Maybe for eternity.

Rosette felt her eyes burn with unshed tears as she steeled her resolve. There was a promise to keep and not much time left.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Your thoughts would be loved as always! The next chapter will be the time between 5x22 and 6x01 even an update on Grace as well, so it may not be as long as the previous chapters, or maybe it will. I give up on controlling the length on the chapters and just let them run away with me. It's fun to have such long updates!**

 **Thanks and I hope you all enjoyed!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Six**

* * *

Time seemed to drag and pass quickly at all at once.

They returned to Bobby's after the showdown with Michael and Lucifer, every person quiet. Rose rode back with Bobby while Castiel joined Dean. Although when they returned to the junk yard, the angel had left already. Apparently, he wasn't all that great with goodbyes. The last Winchester didn't hang around for long either, only going around to collect his things and pack up his car.

Once again, they were standing outside beside the Impala with the sun warming their backs, shadows stretching in the late afternoon light. She still couldn't wrap her mind around the fact that hours ago the world was ending, weather disasters breaking out across the country and now nature had reverted back to its original settings, as if nothing had happened.

She hung back, allowing the two some privacy as they said their goodbyes. At least this time, the goodbyes were going to be due to distance and not death. That was a relief. Hopefully, Dean was going to be heading to see Lisa and honor his promise to Sam. He deserved some normalcy after everything he and his family had endured. Peace and quiet.

Dean and Bobby shared a hug and when they broke apart the hunter found her gaze and she took the unspoken cue to approach. They met each other halfway and this time, Dean instigated the hug. His grip was tight and the material of his jacket was rough against her cheek.

"Thank you, Rose. For everything," he said with the utmost sincerity. "No one asked you to help us but you did anyway and I can't begin to tell you how grateful we are."

"Th-thanks…"

"And I want you to keep on fighting," he added, keeping his voice low enough for only her to hear. "Don't give up. We'll find some way to break your deal with Crowley. I promise. Just keep friggin' swingin'."

Her throat felt tight so she simply nodded in agreement, throwing more strength into the embrace.

She took her spot beside Bobby as the Chevy Impala drove away, pulling out of the yard and disappearing down the road. They stayed outside for a few moments in silence, soaking up the feeling of sunlight before he spoke up.

"Well, we better get to it then."

She nodded in agreement and turned to follow the older hunter back to the house. After everything that happened, Bobby was the only one who knew just exactly how much time she had left. Her clock was ticking.

* * *

The number that had called had been blocked so she didn't answer. That was her policy. If she didn't recognize it, she didn't answer and if it was important the person would leave a voicemail. Plus she was at practice, so even if she wanted to she wouldn't have been able to answer. Then there was the fact that her cellphone was on low power and she still had to drive home.

It wasn't until she had gone to her room after dinner and retrieved the phone from the charger that she remembered the awaiting message that blinked at her. Throwing her school bag onto her bed, she pressed _Play_ and brought the phone to her ear.

" _Hey Grace, it's Rose…"_

She felt her stomach drop and the phone slipped from her fingers in shock, dropping onto the carpet. Scrambling to pick it up, she hurried to close her bedroom and took a seat on the edge on the bed, her legs already shaking. Heart pounding, she started the message over again and covered her other ear so she could exclusively focus on the recording.

" _Hey Grace, it's Rose…I-I'm okay, I'm not hurt or anything…"_ Rosette paused to take a shaky breath. _"Listen…I-I know this won't make a lot of sense, or any for that matter, but…I…I don't know how to explain it…There's a lot going on…on a global and supernatural scale…I know it sounds crazy but please, please, listen…stay home with mom and dad. Don't leave if you can help it. It's too dangerous outside."_

Grace could only blink in confusion, not understanding what she was trying to say.

Rosette gave another sigh and she could imagine her running a hand through her hair, loosening it from her bun. She always did when she was worked up.

" _I know—I know I'm not making sense but it sounds so-stupid to say it out loud to another person but it's not, it's a very real threat and needs to be taken seriously."_ Another deep breath. _"The world is ending, Grace. That's the short of it. Michael and Lucifer, the angels, are about to have their big fight and it's going to break the world."_

She looked to her phone in shock before quickly bringing it back to her ear. What was she going on about? The world ending? Maybe her kidnappers had her drugged?

" _But we're still fighting, we're not giving up,"_ she continued. _"My…friends and I, we're going to try and stop them before the battle. It's one last Hail Mary but it's something. I won't-I won't let the world end and I won't let it hurt you. I promise."_

Rosette took another deep breath and her voice was shaking more with her next words.

" _I'm not going to lie to you, Grace. What we're doing-trying to stop God's best angels—it's a suicide run. I don't have a lot of time left…but just in case this is my last call, I just—I just want you to know how much I love you. You, mom, and dad, everyone. I love you so m-much…I can never say it enough. I love you. I love you. I love you."_

"Rosette…!" she couldn't help but choke out in a tight whisper as the message ended. "R-Rosette!"

The tears were already slipping down her cheeks and she threw her hand over her mouth to stop her sob from being heard. She didn't how to explain the call if her mom heard her crying.

There was so much she didn't understand. Why was Rose taken? How? She was there when they went over the security cameras. Rose and the stranger she was helping just vanished in the blink of an eye, in the same manner he had appeared in the kitchen. The police said the tape was tampered with, that it was some type of glitch with the technology but she knew otherwise. There was no way it was just some "error." She was there that night and she _knew_ that her sister was gone. No footprints leading outside or even coming in. Her sister was taken away.

Now with the voicemail…well, it had Grace believing more in her initial thought, that something otherworldly had kidnapped her. It was ludicrous, but it was the first reason her mind could come up with given. The thought was childish but there wasn't any evidence to suggest otherwise.

She woke up to the sound of thunderstorms and her parents calling her downstairs. Stumbling in a half-asleep daze, she made her way down the stairs and met her parents in the kitchen. The glass in the windows were rattling with the strength of the storm outside and the sky was still deep gray and darkening. Her mom hurried her down to the basement where the television was already changed to the news and supplies were brought down. Even the pets were already there, which she found slightly strange since it usually took combined effort to get the younger dog to go down the steps (and up for that matter).

Her dad came back from making certain that everything was latched down and secured and he turned up the volume on the news that recapping what had happened earlier when they were sleeping.

"…Reports are flooding in—a 7.6 earthquake in Portland, 8.1 in Boston, more in Hong Kong, Berlin, and Tehran. The U.S.G.S. has no explanation but says to expect a six-figure death toll."

"My god," gasped her mom, covering her mouth in shock. "What's going on?"

 _That's the short of it. Michael and Lucifer, the angels, are about to have their big fight and it's going to break the world…_

Break the world…Grace felt fear welling up in her chest as she thought about Rosette's words. What if she was right? What if the world was ending?

The lights flickered as the storm raged on. She was curled up next to her mom, resting her head on her lap while her mom gently stroked her hair. The sound of her dad snoring occasionally overpowered the low volume of the news made it feel like any other night at home. She could feel the worry coming from her mom, evident by the fact that she didn't fall asleep either, her hand softly brushing her long hair throughout the storm.

Hours ticked by and her mind still whirled with her sister's words. That what she and her "friends" were doing was considered a suicide run. Who were her friends? If it was a fight on a heavenly scale, how on earth did they become involve or think they could stop it? By "friends" did that include the guy in the trench coat? The one from the diner? If…if the battle was between angels maybe…maybe that was what took her away? It would explain the sudden and unexplained arrival and departure of that stranger and why it didn't make any concrete sense.

Suddenly, the storm quieted.

She lifted her head at the lack of sound and a tiny spark of hope ignited within her chest. Not saying anything, she got up and scrambled up the stairs, the dogs following after her. Using her shoulder, she threw open the back door and rushed outside.

Lifting her face up to the sky, she saw the grey clouds disappearing and the sunlight pouring through. The rain had stopped completely, not a single drop landing on her head as she stared up in amazement. She could feel it in the air, the sensation, the relief of hope returning. It was like everything had fallen back into place.

"They did it…" she whispered.

The hope became tinged with worry as her sister's words echoed in the back of her mind.

 _I don't have much time left…_

She steeled her resolve as the sunlight became brighter. Rosette could do anything. If she and her friends could stop the end of the world, there was nothing she couldn't do. There was no one else she believed in more than her sister.

* * *

Rosette prided herself on her ability to keep her composure in unusual circumstances. After years of working in customer service, it was a skill one acquired quickly.

So she was quite embarrassed that when she opened the front door and saw Sam Winchester standing on the porch, her reaction was to scream and slam the door in his face.

"BOBBY!"

His footsteps could be heard hurrying across the house and she had already dived for the shotgun hidden in the pantry when he arrived.

"What in the hell is going on?"

The knock came again making her flinch and she quickly stammered,

"I-i-it's Sam…!"

His expression became serious and he pulled a gun from the silverware drawer and cocked it before throwing the door open. The gun was level with the tallest Winchester and Sam took a step back with his hands up.

"Bobby—Bobby it's me," he said, a little breathless himself.

"We'll be the judge of that." He jerked his head toward the sink. "Rose, grab the holy water."

Nodding, she hurried over to the cabinet under the sink and picked up the jug that had a rosary half soaking in the water. Keeping his gun trained on the boy, Rose stepped up beside him and squeezed the container tightly, sending a large splash of holy water directly into his face. He sputtered from the force, but there was no sizzling or hisses of pain. Just a now-soaked Sam.

"Second drawer. Blue handle."

Doing as she was told, she found the item and tentatively gave it to the older hunter. He traded spots with her and she kept the gun steady. He grabbed Sam's wrist and held his arm out. Pushing back the jacket's sleeve, he dragged the edge of the silver blade across his forearm. There was a small wince but no other noteworthy effect as the blood welled up, spilling over the curvature of his arm.

She looked back to Bobby, waiting for his word of approval. He stared at the cut and she could nearly hear the gears turning as he went over any other possible tests that could prove that it was a monster pretending to be Sam Winchester. Her hands trembled but she kept her aim true, not willing to let herself falter.

Sam's voice was soft and unsure. "Bobby…?"

The knife clattered to the floor and the man pulled the youngest Winchester to him in a fierce hug, hands clapping hard against his back. Quickly, she lowered the gun and stepped back as Bobby brought him into the house, the door closing behind him.

"It's good to see you, boy," said Bobby, his voice a little more gruff than usual and he had to clear his throat. "But how in the hell are you out of the cage?"

Sam gave a confused shrug. "I-I don't know. One second, I'm falling into the cage, and the next…I'm lying in that field. Alone. No Lucifer, no…anything."

"Then…what pulled you out?" Rose asked tentatively.

"I thought you guys did at first," he said looking between them. They both shook their heads.

"Wasn't us," said Bobby.

"Yeah, you asked us not to and it's only been a day or so. We would need more time," she explained further. "Which means…"

"That something pretty high-powered pulled you out of the fire," finished Bobby. "Now the question is, what did it?"

Silence filled the kitchen in response.

* * *

The house was vacant as Rose and Sam drove into town for some supplies. Weeks had passed and there wasn't any sign of improvement. He knew that Rosette wasn't sleeping well and he didn't think Sam was sleeping at all. Nightmares constantly woke her up and he would often find the two up studying at the dark hours of the morning. Sam didn't seem to sleep entirely, most likely to avoid his own nightmares of hell. Even if his time was short by their standards, time in hell passed differently and he couldn't imagine what it was like in the cage.

There was nothing he could say to make the situation better for either one of them. If he found Rose randomly asleep at odd points in the day, he would allow her to sleep and not comment. When he asked how Sam was feeling and he said "Fine," he left it alone but still kept his eye out for the boy. At the very least, the two seemed to be getting along well which he thought was healthy for the both of them. They both needed a friend.

The news was playing softly in the background as he worked at his desk. Symbols draw by white chalk connected to lit candles and he had a large bowl filled with a variety of dried plants. Taking a knife, he cut open his palm and made a fist, the blood dripping steadily onto the mixture. He used a cloth to bind the cut, muttering the Latin softly.

"… _Et ad congregandum…eos coram me."_

Striking a match, he dropped it into the bowl and the contents flared brightly in reaction to the heat.

"Been making merry, have we?"

Bobby lifted his head to see Crowley leaning against the door frame, collected as ever.

"Bite me," he sneered.

"If that's your thing," he shrugged. Pushing up from the doorframe, he snapped his fingers and the television was shut off. His shoes clicked against the wood floor as he stepped closer.

"That swan dive of Sam's was a thing of beauty," he said. Bobby clicked the knife close, slipping it into his pocket as the demon continued. "Tens all the way around, standing O from the Romanian judge. You should be proud, Bobby. As deaths go, wasn't too shabby."

Bobby didn't comment, only pinning him with a glare.

"Cheer up, mate. We just saved the sodding world together," said Crowley. "Me, I've been celebrating."

"Hate to see what you call celebrating," he gruffed.

"Yes, you would."

He picked up the glass bottle on his desk and offered, "Drink?"

"No," Crowley declined with a grimace.

"Let me get this straight," he said. "We just "saved the sodding world together"…and you're too good to drink with me?"

"Obviously. I doubt you have my brand," he said, gingerly turning a stray bottle that was on top of the television around to read the label.

"What's your poison, Your Highness?"

"Craig, aged thirty years at least," he answered. "Been drinking it since grade school."

"Well, I got old rotgut," he said, coming around to the other side of the desk, "aged six days."

"Swill like that is gonna burn a hole in your soul," he paused. "Oh, sorry. _My_ soul. But that's why you called? Our little deal?"

"Yeah, well, it's about time you hold up your end and give it back."

"Give it back?" he repeated.

"Our deal was," he reiterated slowly, "we ice Lucifer…you rip up the lease."

"Oh," he tutted, turning around slowly. "You didn't read your contract."

"The hell you talking about, contract?"

He snapped his fingers and Bobby let out a hiss of pain as fire seemed to break out across his skin. Clenching his fists tightly, deep red writing started to appear on his arms, burning its way down to his hands.

"Paragraph 18, subsection B, which is on your naughty bits," he explained. "I only have to make best _efforts_ to give you back your soul."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning I'd like to…" the demon groaned with the invisible effort, like he was trying to hand him back his soul. Letting go of the breath, he returned to his relaxed posture. "But I can't."

"You lying sack of—"

"Ten years…" he interrupted, stepping closer. "You come to daddy. Til then I suggest you start drinking the good stuff."

"And what about Rose?"

Crowley seemed caught off by the abrupt change in subject as told by the small twitch near his left eye. "What about her?"

"What about her "contract"?" he said with a sneer, using his terminology.

"A business transaction. In twelve days she'll come to me too," he explained evenly.

"She's a good kid," said Bobby. "She doesn't deserve hell."

"Ah, but it's not about what she deserves, is it?" smirked Crowley. "She sold her soul to me. Simple as that."

"You could void it-"

"But I won't."

Bobby finished his drink, setting the glass down on the desk. "I figured you'd say that. So you can _rot_ here till you change your mind."

"Why? Because you asked nicely?"

"No," he said with a bit of a laugh. He walked past him and flipped a switch. "Because I'm going Dateline on your ass."

The black light illuminated the once-invisible devil's trap and that Crowley was standing in the dead center.

"I hope that's paint," he commented. He took a breath. "Oh no. What am I going to do?"

Bobby started to turn away when Crowley gave a sharp whistle.

There was a sudden growl and overwhelming presence, the creature snarling and snapping its jaws. The hunter had to bring his arm up to cover his nose from the smell and against the heat, gagging.

"Doggie breath. Bracing, isn't it?" he said. "Ball's in your court, Robert. Ten years of living or ten years as Alpo."

The hound growled again as Bobby thought over his options. Reluctantly, he brought his knife out again and slowly, he bent down to scratch a small line in the circle.

"This ain't over," he promised, pointing his knife at him.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Calmly, he stepped out of the trap and stood face to face with the hunter. Bobby could still feel the heat from the Hellhound's breath against his neck as the demon regarded him. He was as cool as ever but there was something else to his gaze.

"I'll say it again, on the off chance that you've got some sort of half-formed scheme," he said. "Rosette. Is. _Mine_."

Bobby didn't miss the fact that the hairs on his neck stood on end at the demon's growl.

Crowley strolled into the kitchen, one hand on the invisible hound.

"Happy hunting."

* * *

She could feel the exhaustion manifesting under her eyes in the form of dark shadows. She was no stranger to sleepless nights, but _this_ was like nothing she experienced before.

As soon as she slipped into unconsciousness the nightmares started. They were a relentless onslaught of horrifying imagery that she didn't know her mind could dredge up. Was it only in her head or were they visions of hell and what was to come? The dreams woke her up at odd hours in the night and she often found herself unable to go back to sleep. Sometimes she could but even those moments were peppered with violent and visceral visions. So she took to reading, deciding to use her extra time awake as best as she could.

On a strangely lighter note, Sam was awake during the night as well. They often ran across each other at the table or on the couch, each pouring over some old and dusty book. The Winchester seemed to know why she was awake and she didn't ask him because the answer was obvious. Of course he would struggle to sleep after being in Hell, let alone the Cage. It wasn't her place to ask, so she didn't.

In a way, she was upset that Sam had found himself back topside. It was selfish and horrible of her to think so, and she squashed the thought as soon as it appeared but it was still there. Finding Sam and getting him free was her focus. She needed a goal to zero in on and to work towards while in Hell. It was the best way, in her opinion, to not go crazy or lose her humanity. If she could work toward an achievement of some sort, it could keep her on the right track. Fighting for Sam Winchester who was unjustly trapped in the Cage was the perfect motivator. Now that he was free, what else was there for her to do? She dedicated her time to researching everything she could but her heart just wasn't quite in it.

She was going to Hell because she deserved it.

That's how it always was with her and she understood herself well enough to admit it. Fighting for others was second nature for her. She could get worked up and fierce about helping and protecting others, but when it came to herself…the fire just wasn't there. She would fight for those she loved without a second thought and until her last breath. If it was just for herself…

Well, she wasn't worth it.

The days passed in a blur of sleepless night and the nightmares steadily worsened. Each day brought more dread and her body seemed heavier, her limbs weighed down with fear and apprehension. Sometimes, she would find herself staring at the aged pages and moments would pass before she realized that she wasn't actually reading the faded text. Her mind often slipped toward darker thoughts, like vicious Hellhounds constructed out of shadows and fire dragging her away, kicking and screaming for someone, anyone to save her.

When January 1st arrived, she was acutely aware of her every heartbeat from the moment she woke up. She felt a sort of numbness overtake her as her pulse pounded in her ears, seemingly saying, " _You're going to die, you're going to die,"_ with every pump of her heart. How many beats were left?

She did her best to stay out of everyone's way that day. Sam was heading into town for something and she politely refused his invitation to tag along. Instead, she spent her time organizing and cleaning as much as she could when she was out of Bobby's sight. She couldn't fully meet his gaze and she tried to make herself scarce, not allowing for decent conversation. She didn't want to hear anyone sympathies or empty promises that it would all work out. If she heard the hunter say anything of the sort with his gruff, but kind voice, she was going to break down and she wasn't certain if she could pull herself together. In the time she had left, she cleaned up the room she had borrowed during her stay, straightened as much as she dared to touch in the library (she didn't want to accidentally ruin the system Bobby had set up) and even made up dinner.

As the night came once again, she made her way to bed early, telling the hunters good night before vanishing upstairs. Closing the door behind her, she carefully laid on the bed, on top of the covers so not to muss it too much, and picked up the rosary that was resting on the night stand. She had palmed it when she was helping Bobby clean, slipping the aged prayer artifact into her pocket with barely a thought. Studying the item, she rolled one of the deep red beads between her fingers. There was no faint glimmer of hope that praying would miraculously solve her problem. Honestly, she couldn't remember the last time she prayed.

Well, that wasn't the right way to say it. She did know. She could remember when she _stopped_ praying.

"Hail Mary, full of grace…"

Years of Catholic schooling had engrained the words into her brain and she recited them without difficulty. Even though it was hopeless, the steady repetition and rhythm helped soothe her nerves in a way. Hours passed this way and it was close to midnight when she got up from the bed, straightening the covers one last time. Listening with her ear to the door, she made sure it was quiet before stepping out of the room.

There was a faint light from under Sam's door so she was painstakingly careful as she made her way to the staircase, trying to be as light as physically possible. It felt like ages before she made it to the bottom of the staircase without incident. Peering around the edge, she saw that Bobby had fallen asleep at his desk again. A part of her wanted to go over and gently wake him up and tell him to go to bed or at least cover him with a blanket, but she restrained herself. She couldn't risk waking him. Instead, she steeled herself and slipped out the door.

The salvage yard was quiet that night and she made her way to the furthermost corner. There was nowhere for her to go. She didn't want to drive and risk an accident when the Hounds came for her, perhaps hurting or killing another person as a result. There was no way she was going to stay in her room and have the monsters tear through Bobby's home which he so graciously accepted her into. He mentioned in passing that he was trying to get goofer dust, some item that could help keep the Hounds at bay. It had yet to arrive but that didn't upset her. At best it would hold them off for a small amount of time and then what? Either way, the result was the same.

Taking a shaky breath, she gingerly sat on the hood of an old, nondescript car. This was better. Out of the way, unobtrusive, and no one risked getting hurt by just being near her. Her hands were shaking terribly as she kept a strangle hold on the rosary, the thread straining under her tightening grip.

This was it.

She was going to die.

Hot tears burned their way down her cheeks, dripping onto her shirt. Her jaw was clenched tightly as she did her best not to make a sound. It shouldn't be a shock. She knew that she was going to die earlier than most. She had known for ten years.

A choking sob escaped her and she clamped her hands over her mouth to muffle the sound.

Knowing didn't quell the nauseating fear that racked her body. Knowing didn't stop her heart from aching at the thought of leaving her loved ones. It certainly didn't stop her from fearing the pain that was about to consume her. Of how much it was going to hurt.

She laced her fingers together tightly, the rosary still tangled.

"I-I'm not sure if I'm doing this right, but…Castiel…if you can hear me, I…I just wanted to talk for a second…mostly to apologize…b-but I mean, I understand if you're busy…It's…it's just that I'm going to die soon—"

The flap of wings startled her from her ramblings and she looked over her shoulder to see Castiel to her left. He looked like he always did, complete with the same trench coat and serious expression.

"O-oh. That was fast."

He looked around the immediate area before turning his attention back to her.

"You said you were about to die," he stated. "I don't see anything that would endanger you."

"Not yet. I still have a few minutes…" she clarified. "I just—I just wanted to apologize to you…"

"Apologize?" he repeated. His gaze narrowed in confusion. "For what?"

"For, well…" she paused as she lowered her gaze. All of her emotions were overwhelming her, making her more than uneasy as she tried to explain herself.

"I just wanted to apologize to you…for bringing me back after the fight and…and here I am, going to die anyway…"

His confusion didn't seem to abate.

"You're not going to die."

She gave a small sad smile as she gently corrected him. "The deal I made with Crowley is due at midnight. M-my ten years are up."

"The timeline may be correct but your contract is not going to be collected."

Her heart gave a hard beat at his words as she openly stared at him. It took a moment for her to work her voice again, the sound cracking.

"Wh-what…?"

There was a flash of heat and the familiar voice rang out just behind her, sending a tingling sensation down her spine.

"I'm afraid the angel's right."

She whirled around to face the demon and she was confused by her own lack of fear at the sight of him. He was monster that she had sold her soul to as well as promised a variety of other pieces of her humanity, and yet, she still had the feeling of weightlessness when she saw him. That alone should have spoken volumes, but she ignored it as she watched him. She only had minutes left if Castiel was wrong. She had to know.

"What…what does that mean then?" she asked carefully.

His gaze lingered on her while he kept his voice mild. "It means that since Castiel here has marked up your contract with his sigils, I cannot collect your soul at this point in time. Unless he so kindly removes them—"

"I will not," Castiel snapped.

"There you go," Crowley said with an offhanded wave. "In attempt to gain some leverage over me by initially kidnapping you, he has now muddled our agreement with his heavenly scrawl by marking over the end date that we had agreed upon. Among other complications I'm certain he was equally unaware of."

"Other complications?" Rose repeated. "Like what?"

"He does not have a date to collect your soul due to the Enochian sigils," said Castiel, watching Crowley carefully. "Which allows you to live until natural causes intervene and only then he can have your soul as you are still bound to him through the initial contract."

Castiel paused, tilting his head ever so slightly as if he was listening to something only he could hear. He gave a hard sigh. "I have to go now. There is still unrest and confusion in the heaven."

Before she could blink, he was gone. The space perfectly empty as if he was never there in the first place. Leaving her alone with Crowley.

It was quiet for a brief moment and she knew that he was irritated by the conflict in their contract. He didn't have to be yelling to show his frustration. She had witnessed first-hand that he could be very frightening without raising his voice. Taking a breath, she took a small step toward him as he started to turn away.

"Crowley?"

He stopped and his hazel eyes flickered back to her as he faced her properly. He didn't say anything but gave the slightest nod of his head for her to continue.

"If my time comes l-like Castiel said," she began, trying to keep her voice from trembling, "is it possible…for you to collet my soul and not the Hounds?"

"Asking for a personal escort to Hell, darling?" he teased. "Being a chew toy doesn't sound very pleasant, does it?"

She studied him for a moment before answering, focusing on the color of his eyes that was a confusing mix between hazel and underlying red, and less on the darkness that was apparent to her now, enveloping his very being like a cloak constructed of dark red shadows.

"I just thought I'd ask," she said with a shaky laugh. "I understand though."

"It would make sense for me to collect you though," he said thoughtfully. "Certainly would make training you easier. As my assistant the more proficient you are, the better for me."

"Really?" she asked, hope starting to thread its way into her voice. Maybe she wouldn't have the Hellhounds after her?

"As being sworn to me is a part of your contract, it only makes sense," he explained simply. "We'll need to stay in contact, of course."

"Of course," she agreed with a watery chuckle. The relief was starting to sink in and her knees began to wobble.

In the span of a beat, Crowley was suddenly in front of her with his hand grasping her elbow to keep her steady while the other remained in his pocket.

"Just in case there was the shadow of a doubt…" he said, gazing down at her. "When I make a deal, I stick to it even when angels interfere. So there's no need to worry about some underhanded plot to kill you before your new time."

She was partially distracted with his body so close to hers that it took a second for her to find her words. The heat he gave off was a result of his demonic nature but that didn't stop the feature from being welcomed by her.

"Do you promise?" The words sounded childish to her ears but that didn't stop the question from escaping her lips. He was the one with all the power.

An amused smirk pulled at his mouth. He lowered himself so that his mouth was right next to her ear, his breath making shivers race up and down her spine. Her fingers brushed against the material of his coat and she felt the warmth return to her cheeks as his voice rumbled.

"I promise."

* * *

 **REVIEW! Sorry for the wait! Work, life, and trying to get some wedding planning done kind of got in the way of writing. But fear not! Here we are! The official end to season 5, the next chapter will be the beginning of season 6! Don't have much time to hat, gotta run to work!**

 **I would love to hear your thoughts and I hope you enjoyed!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Seven**

* * *

Rose was certain that there wasn't a singular word that could describe what her life had become over the past year. It was miraculous, wonderful, and so insanely bizarre wrapped up in one. She was certain the term didn't exist.

With her newfound lease on life, she began to learn as much as she could about being a hunter. Thanks to the generosity of Bobby Singer, she continued to stay with him at the salvage yard. With everything that had happened, she couldn't go back to her old lifestyle of working at the diner in her quiet town. Not when there was an alternative, a place where she could learn and grow and help others. The thought of returning to her town felt suffocating and uncomfortable. How could she go back to the way things were before, where she was basically waiting for death to come for her?

Instead of cleaning tables and taking food orders at the diner, she was learning about the multitude of monsters in far greater detail than she thought possible. The research she did on her own back home was _nothing_ compared the information and lore that Bobby had gotten his hands on throughout the years. While the work primarily yielded terrifying mythologies, it was incredibly fascinating as well. It was interesting to notice the similarities between creatures and what made them stand apart and she found herself enjoying the research in a way. Not to mention, reading help her nerves settle after being woken up by nightmares.

Sleep was still difficult to come by, even after the relief of her suspended contract date the nightmares continued. They didn't bother her as much, months later, but it was still difficult to fall asleep again afterwards so she spent the time as productively as she could by reading. Her body began to adjust to fitful bursts of sleep, slowly accepting it as her new normal. As there wasn't any recorded case of a demon deal similar to hers with a postponed due date, she didn't really have a frame of reference. From her readings, the nightmares started when the human's soul was soon to be collected, granting them visions of what was to be their eternity. Since she was past her contractual "time" maybe she was just stuck in a constant state of near-death? It was just a work-in-process theory of hers. She likely wasn't going to have any concrete answers.

At least she wasn't the only one with trouble sleeping. Sam still was up most the night but he didn't seem to have any of the sluggish behavior she did on some of her rougher nights. In fact, he seemed clear headed and sharp around the clock. She attributed some of the mannerism due to being raised in the hunter life but on the other hand she was worried as well. There would be nights where she was absolutely certain the he wasn't sleeping, period. He would still be sitting at the table working on his laptop and notes during the night, regardless of what time she woke up.

Over the past year, the two of them actually spent a large amount of time together. When she wasn't researching with Bobby, she was on the road with Sam to help with cases. Small ones, of course, she was still new to the lifestyle but she was determined to learn. Sam was a good teacher as well. He was very knowledgeable, straight forward and to the point. Sometimes she felt as if she was burden by asking so many questions. She was a novice, especially next to him where everything seemed to come so naturally, and there were days where she felt like a burden during a case. When she asked him outright if her questions were annoying, he gave a scoff of a laugh, raising a brow.

" _Are you trying to be annoying?"_

" _What? No!"_

" _There you go. You're asking because you want to know and I have yet to hear you ask the same question twice. You're just new, that's all."_

Sam's…demeanor was different as well, she noticed. He was considerably cooler in attitude than he was before. Now, she really wasn't the best person to gauge his personality since she had only known him for a couple days and that was when the world was ending. For all she could know, he was always that way. There were times that his cold, exacting methods startled her and she couldn't help but wonder if it was an effect from his time in the cage. He moved with an unwavering sureness, dodging attacks and fighting monsters like it wasn't a potential dance with death. His reflexes were so fast and fluid, sometimes she felt like there was no way she could keep up with him. That was especially evident recently when they were fighting a couple of Djinn.

Even when half-poisoned, Sam was still head and shoulders superior to her in regards to strength and ability. She could still recall the monster, covered in hypnotizing tattoos and wearing a terrifying expression of hate as it lunged toward her with glowing blue eyes. She was just a hair too slow. Even as she brought up her gun, both hands steady, she knew that the bullet wouldn't stop it in time. Their reach would give them the advantage and she could only see their hand reaching for her face, ready to overdose her with the exotic poison. Out of nowhere, she caught sight of a flash of blood stained silver appearing over her shoulder and an arm wrapped around her, gripping her tightly as she was yanked backwards. The maneuver provided just enough room and she saw the Djinn fall to the ground with the blade buried in its head to the hilt.

Speaking of the Djinn, Sam and the Campbells were on their way to Dean in order to stop them before they got to the oldest Winchester. According to Sam, years ago they had hunted and killed a Djinn and the ones they recently faced had mentioned "revenge" as their motivator which allowed them to connect the dots that Dean would be the most likely next target. The drive passed through Sioux Falls and after much arguing, Rosette was left back at the salvage yard before Sam took off for Dean's home with Lisa. She knew that she was still the least experienced of the bunch and the Campbells were tolerant of her at best due to her lack of blood relation, but that didn't mean she wasn't willing to work hard. She had no problem reminding Sam of that fact and add on that she had also managed to drag him to safety so that he could receive the Djinn antidote from Samuel.

"They'll be fine."

She flinched at Bobby's voice, tearing her gaze from the window. When his words registered, she gave a weak smile.

"I know. I just…worry anyway," she explained sheepishly. He gave a short laugh.

"Welcome to the club, kid."

Hearing the familiar sound of tires on gravel, she gave the hunter a real grin. "Speak of him and he shall appear!"

She got up from the table, doubling back to mark her page, then she made her way over to the door. The first knock had barely begun before she threw the door open, greeting already leaving her lips. Sam usually just let himself in, so that should've been her first clue.

"Hey-"

Her smile dropped instantly at the sight of Dean's serious face. She could only assume the woman and young boy standing by his side were Lisa and Ben.

"—oh…"

He greeted her with a nod. "Rose."

"Heya, Dean."

She heard Bobby stepped up behind her and he sighed.

"Damn it."

Dean's lips twitched at the untraditional welcome. "It's good to see you too, Bobby. It's been awhile."

"If you're here, something's wrong," returned Bobby. His words made Rose grimace in agreement.

The eldest Winchester sighed and gestured to the two strangers. "Bobby, Rose, this is Lisa and Ben."

"Hi," managed Lisa. Rose gave her best reassuring smile to the woman. They had to be shaken up. Clearly the Djinn hunt didn't go as planned.

"Well, it's nice to finally meet you two," said Bobby. "Come on in. _Mi casa es su casa_."

They stepped to the side and Rose led the way, waving for the two newcomers to follow her into the kitchen.

"Can I get you anything? Something to drink? We have water and—" she paused when noticed how young the boy, Ben, was, "—and more water."

"No thank you," Lisa politely declined. "We're good."

"Maybe you want to go upstairs?" suggested Bobby. "TV's broken, but there's plenty of _Reader's Digest_. Just don't touch the décor, okay? Assume it's all loaded."

They quietly nodded and made their way upstairs. Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and Rose felt a twinge of panic when she didn't see Sam walk in with the group. Why wasn't he there? Did he get hurt? Did he not even get to Dean? Did Dean not know yet?

"So…" began Dean.

She heard the creak of the porch wood and her gaze flickered back to the open door to see Sam's large figure fill the frame. She released a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Hey Bobby," he greeted. His gaze found hers and he nodded. "Rose."

"Sam," answered Bobby with another sigh.

Dean's expression quickly changed to confusion, looking between the two of them and his brother. A muscle jumped in his jaw and the girl they were going to be in for a lecture.

"You knew," he stated. "You _knew_ Sam was alive."

"Yeah."

Dean was already pacing the kitchen as the rest of them took a seat. Bobby took the chair, Rose hopped up on the empty countertop and Sam leaned against the same counter, all carefully watching.

"How long?"

"Look—"

"How long?" Dean snapped, his voice jumping in volume.

The three of them shared a quick look and Bobby folded his arms.

"All year."

The silent tension was palpable as Dean leveled them all with a look of disbelief. Rose kept her eyes focused on the faded floor tiles.

"Oh, you've got to be _kidding_ me…"

"And I'd do it again," said Bobby firmly.

"Why?!" exasperated Dean, throwing his arms open.

"Because you got _out_ , Dean!" he told him with conviction. "You walked away from the life. And I was so _damn_ grateful, you got no idea."

Dean walked back over to them. "Do you have any clue what walking away meant for me?"

"Yeah—a woman and a kid and not getting your guts ripped out by age 30. _That's_ what it meant."

"That woman and that kid—I went to them because _you_ asked me to," he said, pointing at Sam.

"Good," answered Bobby.

"Good for who?" he asked. "I showed up on their doorstep half out of my head with grief. God knows why they even let me in. I drank too much. I had nightmares. I looked _everywhere_. I collected hundreds of books, trying to find _anything_ to bust you out."

"You promised you'd leave it alone," Sam reminded calmly.

"Of _course_ I didn't leave it alone! Sue me!" he snapped. "And Rose, you too? Of all people, you?"

She felt her face begin to burn with shame. He was right, she should've been the most sympathetic to his side of the argument. She could completely understand his side of the story but if she was in Sam's shoes, she would've made the same call. If Grace had the chance to be happy and safe, even if it broke her own heart, she would do anything to keep it that way.

"Especially me," she confessed. "Like Bobby said, you were safe and had a family—"

"I wanted my brother back!" he shouted, making her flinch.

"Dean," spoke up Bobby, bringing the focus back to him.

"A damn year?" Dean asked, his voice wavering. "You couldn't put me outta my damn misery?"

"Look, I _get_ it wasn't easy. But that's life!" argued Bobby. "And it's as close to happiness as I've ever seen a hunter get!" He took a breath and his next words were softer. "It ain't like I wanted to lie to you, son. But you were _out_ , Dean."

His lips formed a firm line. "Do I look out to you?"

* * *

Rose kept herself busy by helping Sam restock and check his car before it hit the road again. Since Dean had the Impala, Sam had to get his own wheels and his choice was a black 2006 Dodge Charger. Though Rose's favorite little thing about was that it currently had Illinois plates. Down the line they would be replaced but it was just a little fun feature for her. Like a little bit of home. She just finished gassing it up, twisting the cap back on as Sam popped open the trunk.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked, putting the can away.

"The plan?" he repeated, propping open the secret weapons compartment. She took her place beside him and started to work on checking the items on her side.

"Yeah, the plan," she agreed, checking the magazine to make sure it was full. "About the Djinn. I doubt they're going to just leave you and Dean alone because you asked nicely."

He gave a smirk at her words. "Well, you're right. If they've held the grudge this long, it goes to show they don't care how long they have to wait. We're probably going to meet up with Samuel and the others and take it from there."

"Yeah, probably best to work as group," she agreed. "Everything's been out of whack these past few months according to Bobby. Nocturnal monsters attacking in the middle of the day, werewolves during the half-moon, and that's on top of the other monsters that aren't even typically found in this country are popping up in the Midwest. Now Djinn are out and about even though they're cave dweller types who are super reclusive isn't even considered the strangest. I get that they're mad at you two but that was years ago, but don't you think something has to have happened to trigger all of these out of the usual monster sightings?"

"You're right," agreed Sam. "Samuel said nearly the same thing and he hasn't seen anything like it either. We think it might be in some relation to what brought us both back. That can't be a coincidence, us coming back and all these out of the ordinary hunts."

"That's what I'm thinking too," she said with a nod. "I'm not one to believe in coincidences anyway."

With the last item checked and restocked, Sam closed the trunk and Rose checked her watch for the time.

"Do you think they're still talking? Dean and Lisa?" she asked, looking back at the house. "I just need to grab my bag and we can meet up with the others."

"We?" repeated Sam. Her face fell in disappointment at his implication. The change of tone was slight but she heard it well-enough.

"Oh c'mon, Sam," she protested. "I can help!"

"You know it's not my call," he countered evenly. "I always suggest you."

"I know," she sighed, trying not to be too put out. "You'd think Grandpa Campbell would've warmed up to me by now…"

He gave a short laugh. "Maybe it's because you call him grandpa?"

"Maybe," she agreed. "It's just sometimes easier than having any Sam or Samuel confusion."

"I understand, but you know how he is."

She did her best not to roll her eyes as the reason came to mind. "His whole "blood family only" rule sounds more and more childish every time I hear it. Like we're back in grade school and girls can't be on the boy's team because they might have cooties."

"Hunting monsters is a little different than kickball," teased Sam. "He's just set in his ways. He also thinks that the internet is the greatest pain since hiking to school uphill both ways in the snow."

A small snort of laughter escaped her and the disappointment lessened slightly. She knew Sam was right, but it still stung that she couldn't always help. She was more than happy to help by researching and providing information but she also liked being able to learn hands-on. Samuel Campbell was set in his ways when it came to hunting and who to trust but she wished that he would put more stock into her and her abilities. It wasn't as if she was a stranger since Sam often brought her around to the Campbell hideout when they worked cases together.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There was no point in arguing since the person who needed to hear her side wasn't even present and Sam was already on her team, but he knew that it wouldn't do them any good to aggravate the group leader too often. Especially since the Campbell family was more motivated than usual to complete the Djinn hunt. She wondered if it was because they had targeted Sam and Dean, Samuel's grandsons.

As if on cue, Dean made his way outside.

"Well, if you need me just call," she reminded Sam.

"'Course."

The Charger revved up and took off out of the salvage yard as Rose watched on wistfully. She barely finished a sigh before another voice cut in.

"Left to keep the home fires burning, darling?"

Whirling around in surprise, she didn't reach for the knife she had hidden inside her jacket. An easy smile pulled at her lips at the familiar voice and she brightened up.

"How's it goin', Crowley?"

The demon was standing before her dressed in his usual all-black attire, complete with over coat. She paused to look around the immediate area. No one else was outside and the windows were vacant, meaning it was just the two of them. She didn't want to imagine what Bobby would say if he saw his least favorite demon on his property. It would most likely involve more than one shot of rock salt, she guessed.

"Swimmingly," he answered. "Yourself?"

"I'm good," she returned. "What brings you by?"

"Am I not allowed to make a social call?" he asked with a smirk.

"Of course, you're more than welcomed," she gave a teasing smirk in return. "So what would you like to chat about? The weather, my hair, or that Sam and Dean are working together on a case?"

He raised an impressed eyebrow. "You don't miss much, do you, darling?"

"Well I do try," she laughed. "Don't worry, they're not hunting you."

"Ah, excellent. I can't say that I have the time to be hunted at the moment," he said with a shrug. "Bit busy at the mo'."

"Is it still crazy down there since Lucifer was put back in the cage?" she asked curiously. It had been just over a year since the big fight. That seemed like enough of an adjustment period, right? Especially since time flowed differently there.

"All fire and brimstone as always," he sighed.

A bit of movement by a window caught her eye and she stiffened. It could have been Lisa or Ben but she didn't want to take the chance.

"Hey, you may want to make yourself scarce. I can't promise that Bobby won't shoot you on sight," she explained. "You still need to release his contract, you know."

"He'll have to take a number." There was the slightest smirk and she wondered what it was for, but they didn't have the time so she simply chalked it up to his sense of humor.

"I suppose I better be on my way then."

He began to walk past her and she remained still. She knew that he was just going to teleport away so she didn't bother stepping aside. When he brought his hand up and gave a sharp snap, she flinched when her hair was suddenly released from its tie, falling heavily past her shoulders. She always wore it tied up somehow, it was just too much of hassle and it rarely obeyed her. So wearing a bun became her solution. It was simple enough and it was easy to dress up and give a more professional look. Less "I just rolled out bed" and more "I took the time to style my hair."

Goosebumps broke out across her skin when he suddenly leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered,

"And your hair looks lovely as always, darling."

Before she could say anything, he was gone. A smile dared to pull at her mouth as she let loose a soft laugh.

"Oh Crowley…"

* * *

The demon stood invisible as he watched his contract. He was very much amused by her blush. She was too easy to rile up, like most humans. A simple phrase with just the right amount of infliction was enough to garner a reaction of some sort. Her fair skin made it impossible for her to hide her emotional reactions entirely. Angry, sad, or simply embarrassed. She was an open book to him.

He fought the impulse to reach out and touch her hair but she started to walk back toward the house, her long tresses swinging behind her. It was a good thing she advised him to leave, he supposed. His absence would be noticed if he remained on Earth for too long. Hell needed its leader to rule with an iron fist. Otherwise, Lucifer's loyalist could pose a serious threat to his newfound reign. Those not as dedicated to the fallen angel were more accepting of his new status. There were perks to being Lilith's right hand man and the proclaimed king of the crossroads. It allowed his ascension to be proceeded by his reputation and rank, thus sufficiently proving that he was the right demon for the job. The other key demons had been taken down, killed in one way or another though all through some Winchester method, leaving him the next in line for the throne.

It was hard work trying to reshape hell. While not all were loyal to Lucifer, there were plenty who didn't like change and dug their heels against the regime change. There were more than one occurrences where his temper got the best of him and he offed a disobedient demon. While it did strike the desired effect of fear and grudging respect, it was a nuisance nonetheless. Despite the slow pace, hell was starting to realize its capability and strengthening in organization and numbers. Not as many souls as it _could_ have but that would come with time, once Castiel held up his part of the deal. It certainly was an irony for an angel and a demon to work toward a common goal, no matter how beneficiary.

The trips out of hell were usually quick because he couldn't risk showing any kind of slack in authority. His visits were irregular in length in case someone was monitoring his every move but he did visit when he could get the chance. It was nice to breathe fresh air and not have to deal with the latest compliant for a moment. His gaze tracked his human as she vanished inside the house and a smirk pulled at his mouth just before he returned beneath Earth's surface.

Checking on his contracted soul was considered working anyway, even if the king deserved a break every so often.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for waiting! Sorry, life gets in the way as always but don't worry, I have lots of plans for this story so never fear! This story will be one heck of a ride.**

 **This chapter was shorter than usual and mostly recap, but don't worry, more information will be given over time and next time we'll have a full episode length featuring: a case, the Winchesters and angels.**

 **Hope you all enjoyed! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

 **Until next time!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Eight**

* * *

Rosette was in the middle of her second cup of coffee when she noticed the exceptionally pretty girl pass through the small lobby. With her dark brown hair and her outfit of choice that was rather clingy for eight o'clock in the morning, she knew what room she was leaving. After working other cases with Sam, she learned his routine pretty quickly when they could splurge for separate rooms. Tucking the newspaper under her arm, she tossed her empty cup and picked up the extra steaming cup she bought and made her way down the hall.

Knocking on the door, she counted to five in her head before pushing it open. It was her little habit she developed after the one time she decided to casually walk in and was promptly startled by the very naked woman and presumably a naked Sam. She had shrieked like a junior high student, sprinted out to the parking lot, and then was unable to look him in the eye for the rest of the day. It certainly wasn't her proudest, most adult moment, but as a red head she couldn't fight a blush that fierce and it was best to leave the situation.

Of course, Sam found her reaction _hilarious_.

At least last time she was spared the mockery since it was over the phone a couple of days ago. He called her up and immediately started to speak without any sort of preamble, a little short of breath and words rushed.

" _You, me, a baby. Now."_

" _Wh-wh-what?!"_

After some confusing back and forth, Sam was able to explain the case of the couples murdered in their own homes and their babies, all six months of age, had been listed as missing. Unfortunately, where he was with the case was quite a bit out of the way for her. It would be too long of a drive for her to get to him and he couldn't stay still too long in case whatever was collecting babies was still nearby. Let down that she couldn't be of any immediate help, she tentatively suggested Dean, though he said he was staying out of hunting, he was technically closer.

Luckily, that turned out a good call since now Dean and Lisa had come to some sort of agreement and the oldest Winchester was stepping back into the hunting game.

The door creaked as she stepped into the room. Sam was standing back near the window, shirtless and on the phone. She was glad that time had gotten her used to his habits as her blush didn't flare up like it did in the beginning. Now it was considered the norm and her genetics kindly spared her from turning pink every time.

"I need you to meet us. We're in PA, town called Easter." There was a pause and Sam looked over his shoulder at her with a nod of a greeting. "Yes, Rose is here."

"Hi, Dean!"

"We caught a case." Rose giggled as the younger Winchester sighed and rolled eyes. "Yes, well I like to work."

She took a seat at the small, wobbly table and set down her things, waiting for the call to finish. The newspaper was left with the article of interest face up. Another potential victim for them to investigate. From the details the news provided, the officer had a sudden and _severe_ allergic reaction that caused his death but it didn't specify what it was exactly caused the reaction. That, coupled with the other cop who just seemed to…liquefy, very much made it their type of case.

"Glad we hashed that out. Call me when you roll into town."

Hanging up the phone, he sighed and looked over at her for a fair moment. She raised a brow as he studied her outfit of black slacks, blazer, and white button-up, and he gave a small laugh.

"So, Feds today?"

"You got it, Agent," she laughed.

* * *

As tempting as it was to hop up and take a seat on the trunk of Sam's car, it was deemed unprofessional. They were waiting for Dean since he had called and said he was pulling into town and Rose was just tired of waiting around. Last night was particularly rough so she was a bit more tired than usual and the effect of coffee was starting to wear off. Not to mention that she had gone over their case notes so many times that morning alone she could practically recite each word. She was excited to keep working on the case and find out the answers her curiosity was craving.

There was the very distinct rumble of a car engine and Rose felt her mood brighten as the '67 Chevy Impala rolled into the available space next to them. Dean was on the phone as he stepped out of the classic car.

"Ben, I know you're lying," he said with a sigh. "Because I lie professionally, that's how. Now, tell your mom you broke the damn thing and take it like a man. Okay? Okay, okay."

"Wow," scoffed Sam.

Dean ended the call and slipped the phone into his pocket. "What?"

"You, molding the minds of tomorrow," he laughed. "Who knew?"

"Yeah, tell me about it." He took the file from Sam and gave a nod to the girl. "How's it goin', Red?"

"Oh y'know, just hangin' out," she teased. "Nice to see you again though."

"You too," he answered. His returning smile was reassuring. She was worried that he was still going to be mad from their last encounter at Bobby's and the fact that she helped keep the secret that Sam was alive.

"How did it go?" asked Sam.

"With?"

"You and Lisa. How did she take it when you bailed?"

Rose gave the taller boy a pointed nudge and a stern look. He gave a confused shrug in return.

"What? You were thinking it too."

"Yeah, but it doesn't mean you have to ask it that way," she exasperated.

Dean held up a hand to stop the two of them. "It's okay. She was…shockingly cool, actually."

"Wait, really?" asked Rose.

"Better for everybody," said Sam with a nod. With that said, he turned to start to head into the police department.

"Yeah, I suppose." Dean and Rose shared a weird look and the girl could only shrug with a sigh. She knew full well that Sam's behavior could be considered abrupt or rude. Although knowing didn't make it any less tiring.

"Still driving the plastic piece of crap, huh?" he said, glancing over at Sam's car.

He gave a breath of a laugh. "What's your mileage again?"

"Shut up."

The three made their way into the police department, Sam taking the lead and Dean bringing up the rear, allowing Rosette to appear even smaller between them. They flashed their falsified FBI badges at the front desk and made their way down to the morgue. Thankfully no one asked any questions and they weren't stopped along the way.

"Officer Gerald Hatch, a 17-year veteran," started Sam. Rose quickly pulled out the files and handed the first one to Dean, well-used to Sam's lecture voice. "Found dead in the ready room three days ago."

"Whoa," grimaced Dean, looking at the bloody photos. "Somebody was over-hydrating."

"Heh. Basically, yeah. Guy just liquefied." A quick pause to show their badges to the morgue's office. The people working at the desk gave them the barest of nods, hardly glancing up from their own stack of paperwork.

"Liquefied is the best term for it,"" picked up Rose, pointing out a particular part of the file. "The meat, bones, dense tissue, it all just turned to blood. No rhyme or reason for it."

"Okay, I don't get it."

"Nobody gets it," shrugged Sam.

"No, I mean, I get that." sighed Dean flipping the file shut, "If the guy was a mop job what're we doing in the morgue? What's left to look at?"

"Not here to look at him."

"There's a second guy," answered Rose, handing the second file over. Sam moved over to the wall and found the victim's name, rolling out the covered body. Grabbing the corner of the sheet, Dean pulled it back to reveal the graying, boil covered body.

"Ugh. Bad news."

"Officer Toby Gray," named Sam. "They just brought him in. Found him dead in his patrol car at a speed trap on the outside of town."

"Extreme allergic reaction," read Dean from the paper work.

"Boils, covered from head to toe."

"On the inside too," added Rose. "Completely lined with 'em. Closed his airway, there were so many."

"Starting to look witch-y to you?"

"That's exactly what we thought, but Rose and I have found zero signs of hex work anywhere," explained Sam. "As far as we can tell, there's no sign of witchcraft."

"Gotta be some sort of link between, uh," he checked the papers. "Skidmark and Bubblewrap here."

"No question."

"Well, can I get a witness?"

"Yep. Um," he paused to pull out his notes but Rose was already answering for him.

"Officer Ed Colfax," she said. "He saw Officer Hatch change from a solid to a liquid."

"Another cop?" asked Dean.

"Hatch's partner," they chorused.

Dean gave the two of them a weird look. "Does that happen a lot?"

The two shared a glance and a shrug, both answering.

"Sometimes."

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the two of them.

"Nerds."

* * *

Rose rode with Sam on their way to the third officer's house, going over the notes as he drove. It wasn't as if she was opposed to driving, it was more that the car belonged to the youngest Winchester and therefore he was the primary driver. They've taken turns when they've driven through the night or if Sam was hurt from their case. Sam also made a smartass remark about her driving like a grandma which left her a little bitter.

A sudden screech of tires brought her attention to the road just in time to see the Impala sharply appearing from the next street up, whipping in front of them in time to pull up to the designated house first. The two shared a look and Rose sighed as she packed up her paperwork and Sam smirked.

Doors opening and closing eerily in sync, the brothers didn't say anything right away. Sam twirled his keys before speaking up.

"Were you, uh-?" A small laugh. "Were you racing us?"

"No," scoffed Dean. "I was kicking your ass."

"Very mature."

Rosette rolled her eyes. "Boys…"

The three stood on the front porch before the white door, Dean knocking loudly.

"Hello? Officer Colfax?"

The door opened up immediately and Rose tried not to flinch at the abrupt gesture. The officer was dressed in all of his police finery.

"Whoa. Looking sharp, Kojak."

"Who the hell are you?" he asked.

"FBI," supplied Rose, the practiced lie at the ready. "Did you not get a call? The station said they were going to notify you."

"No…" he answered slowly. Rose noticed that the officer's complexion was sallow and he seemed to be unusually warm on a cool day, the beads of perspiration already dotting his brow beneath the bill of his hat. His gaze didn't seem to be focusing on them.

"We're the Feds, Ed," repeated Sam, "here to ask you some questions about your partner's death."

"Don't worry about it. It's nobody's business."

Red eyebrows rose at that statement. "It most certainly is our business—"

"Don't worry about it," he said again, slamming the door in their face.

The three looked at each in disbelief and confusion. Without saying a word but giving a huff in annoyance, Sam brought up his foot and slammed it into the front door. The door flew open without any resistance and Sam marched inside.

"Dude," called Dean, but Rosette was quickly following and didn't hear the rest. It certainly wasn't the first time Sam had kicked down a door and she knew it wouldn't be his last. On plenty of occasions it was the fastest way to get inside and not to mention, Rose quietly found it to be very bad ass. She couldn't wait until she had her own chance to kick in a door.

Walking into the house, it became apparent that something was wrong with the officer. All of the photos he had hanging on the walls, propped on tables, the glass was broken in the frames and the people in the photos had the eyes and faces scratched out. Every single one.

"Officer Colfax?" called Sam again.

The officer was sitting at a wooden table working on another picture. He was using a knife to scratch out his own photo, the eyes completely white now.

"Hey, man, you all right?" asked Dean.

"Don't worry about it."

Rose grimaced at the repeated words. "Yeah. Every time you say that I worry more…"

"Look, Officer Colfax, Ed, uh…we think that your partner died of unnatural causes."

He put the knife down, most of the photo's face white to match the eyes, and he scratched the top of his hat, looking up at Dean so he continued.

"Did your partner have any enemies?"

"Uhh. You might say that," Colfax answered slowly.

"Who's that?"

"They both had it coming," he said, bringing the blue mug closer to his bottle of whiskey. "Me too. I'll be the next to go, and then it'll be over."

"What will be over?" asked Rose carefully.

He continued as if he hadn't heard her. "And God will be satisfied…"

"Why does God want you all dead?" asked Dean.

"Because of Christopher Birch," he said, setting his drink down. He bumped the bottle and it tipped over, the amber contents quickly spilling onto the floor. Colfax made no move to pick up the bottle, simply sighing as he watched it spill.

"Oh, dammit…"

"Ed, who's Christopher Birch?" Rose tried again.

"He has no face."

They waited for him to continue but he only watched the drink steadily spill.

"Ed?"

"Officer, are you all right?" asked Dean.

He slowly picked up the bottle, only a small portion of his drink remaining. Sam took a step forward.

"Who is Christopher Birch, Ed?" When he didn't say anything, Sam raised his voice another notch to get his attention. "Ed!"

"Christopher Birch is a kid with no face. And a planted gun."

A thick line of blood started to roll down the side of his face from under his hat and he didn't so much as flinch.

"You, uh, you got something," said Dean, gesturing to his own face to help the officer out. Ed slowly brought his hand up and mimicked him, his fingers coming away red.

"Damn," he sighed, nonplussed. "My head's been itching like a dirty jock."

As soon as the words left his mouth, his head dropped to the table like a stone.

After waiting a moment, Sam was the one who stepped forward and pressed his fingers to his neck to check for a pulse. He grimaced and let out an annoyed sigh.

"Dead."

Before she could finish her sigh, Rose's ears perked at a soft chittering sound. After working so many cases with Sam over the past year, she knew that no sound was too small.

"Hey…you guys hear that?" she asked tentatively.

The brothers exchanged a look, listening, and Sam turned to look at Ed's still body. Slowly, he brought his hand closer and with a swift flick of the wrist, tipped the hat over.

Rose had to cover her mouth with her hands to smother her yelp of shock. The top of Ed Colfax's head was open and large locusts were climbing out from the depth of his skull, their wings flickering. One by one, they just kept coming out, seemingly endless.

She gave a violent shudder, moving to hide behind Dean who looked equally disgusted while she tried to shake off the prickly heebie-jeebies.

"Freakin' bugs…"

* * *

Back at the motel room, dressed in comfortable and regular clothing, the three were pulling up any research they could get their hands on. Sam and Dean were at the table and Rose was set up on the bed, printed pages scattered.

"Sweet," groaned Dean. "Blood, boils, locust."

"Three of your more popular Egyptian plagues," finished Sam.

Rose sighed. "I don't know if my old religion teacher would be hysterical at the thought of plagues or too busy saying 'I told you so'."

"If she took a look at these guys, it might change her tune," said Dean, holding up a jar that contained the locust from Ed Colfax. "These guys ate their way out of a cop's melon. I don't quite remember that in the King James."

"Yuck," muttered Rose, still grimacing at the insects.

"Meanwhile, a kid named Christopher Birch…" explained Sam, "was shot in the head last month after a vehicle pursuit."

"Featuring Hatch, Gray, and Colfax," added the girl.

"Exactly, and they all filed the exact same police report."

Dean pulled up the said report, reading aloud. "'Suspect exited vehicle brandishing a firearm. We were forced to fire.'" He paused for a second, thoughtful. "Just a kid with no face and a planted gun. Bunch of dicks. So they popped the kid, planted the piece."

"Maybe Colfax was right," sighed Sam. "Maybe heaven has a hate on for bad cops."

"So we're listening to the guy with the bugs in his custard?" asked Dean. "That's the, uh, theory you wanna go with?"

"And if that was the case, why aren't there more dead cops with biblical causes of death?" asked Rose. "This is all too related to the Christopher Birch case. No other random bad cop has suddenly died."

"Well angels gotta have something to do right?" theorized Sam. "Especially now that we're post-apocalypse."

"Would they be that petty? To, basically, micro-manage?" asked Rose. "The only angel I really met was Castiel. And Lucifer, sorta, though I don't really count that."

"On a good day, yeah. Angels are dicks with wings," scoffed Dean. "So, yeah, maybe they're buckling down. You should call Cas."

He nodded to his brother before cracking open a beer and Sam gave a humorless smirk.

"You're kidding right?"

Dean took a seat next to Rose on the bed, confused by the dry chuckle. "Why not?"

"Dean, I tried," explained Sam, rubbing his temple. "It was the first, and second thing and third thing I did…soon as I got topside. Son of a bitch won't answer the phone."

Rose grimaced at his confession. It was true though. He had even tried calling the angel again at her insistence last year after he arrived at Bobby's, because she was confident that he would show. She was certain he would appear since he came when she prayed to him for the first time, so why wouldn't he appear for his friend who just sacrificed himself for the sake of the world? The guilt and disappointment hit her like a truck when after hearing Sam pray, the angel did not come. They waited and waited and she even prayed as well but nothing happened. The lack of heavenly response was a familiar ache but it still stung. It wasn't fair for Sam, who had given up so much and had taken on unbelievable hurt.

"Well, let's give it a shot," suggested Dean. She gave him a doubtful glance as he lowered his head and closed his eyes.

"Now I lay me down to sleep…I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here."

"You're an idiot," said Sam.

"Stay positive."

"Oh, I am positive."

After a pause, Dean tacked on. "C'mon, Cas, don't be a dick. Got ourselves a plague-like situation down here and…do you…do you copy?"

A few beats of silence passed and there was no sign of the angel. Rose gave him a sad look while Sam gave a bitter smile.

"Like I said, the son of a bitch doesn't answer-"

Before Sam's sentence was finished, the figure was standing behind him so perfectly, it was like the space was made for him all along. Dean had gone still while she had flinched, causing Sam's words to shift.

"—He's right behind me, isn't he?"

Castiel was just as she remembered. Dark hair, tan trenchcoat, tie slightly askew and eyes so blue she could tell their color from across the room. She felt excited to see him after so long, after all he did bring her back from the dead, but she was also equal parts confused and disappointed. Why would he answer Dean but not Sam?

"Hello."

Sam seemed to be on the same train of thought as he repeated, "Hello?"

"Yes."

The taller Winchester looked back at them in obvious shock and disbelief. "Hello. Hello?" He even mocked the angel's deep voice.

"Uh, that is still the term?" he asked slowly.

"I spend all that time trying to get through to you—Rose even calls—but Deans calls once and now it's 'Hello'?"

"Yes," he answered simply.

"So, what," stammered Sam, "you like him better or something?"

"Dean and I do share a more profound bond," explained Castiel. He looked back at Dean somewhat guilty. "I wasn't going to mention it…"

"Cas, I think what he's trying to say is that he went to hell for us," clarified Dean, getting to his feet. "He really took one for the team, remember that? And then he comes back without a clue…you can't take five minutes to give him some answers?"

Quietly, Rose got to her feet too and made her way around to the table beside Sam.

"If I had any answers, I might have responded, but I don't know, Sam," he explained, voice slightly agitated. "We have no idea who brought you back from the cage or why."

"So…it wasn't God?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"No one's even seen God," Cas exasperated. "The whole thing remains mysterious."

"The hell does that mean?"

"What part of 'I don't know'," he repeated, stepping closer to him, "escapes your understanding?"

"Whoa, hey!" spoke up Rose, quickly sliding between the two. Her back bumped against Sam and she could feel him coiling up tight. That usually resulted in someone or something getting punched. She had seen first-hand just how strong he was, punching was an essential skill in monster hunting. They couldn't have him punching their one angel friend.

"Cas, look, if Sam calls, you answer. If Rose calls, you answer," spoke up Dean, drawing the attention away from the two. "Okay? You wing your ass down here and you tell him, 'I don't know'. Just because we have some sort of a bond or whatever—"

"You think I came because you called," stated Cas.

Rose shrugged. "Well…yeah. Sort of looks that way, y'know?"

"I came because of this," he said, pointing the desk covered in paperwork.

"Well, it's nice to know what matters," snarked Dean.

Castiel picked up the jar containing the locusts. "It does help one to focus."

"Wait, so you and the Halo Patrol aren't the cause of these killings?" asked Sam.

"No. But they were committed with one of our weapons," he sighed. "There's only one thing that could have brought this into existence. You call it the staff of Moses."

Blue eyes widened at the news. "You mean like parting of the Red Sea, staff of Moses?"

"I believe it did something of the sort," he agreed. "It was used in a dominance display against the Egyptians, as I recall."

"Yeah, dominance display…" repeated Rose. "That was touched on in Exodus..."

"Well, I thought the staff turned, like, a river into blood, not one dude," said Sam.

The angel paused for a moment. "The weapon isn't being used at full capacity…"

He looked up at them in all seriousness.

"I think we can rule Moses out as a suspect."

Biting back a smart comment, Dean rolled his eyes instead.

"Okay, well, what is Chuck Heston's disco stick doing down here anyway? I mean, don't you guys put away your toys?"

"Before the apocalypse, heaven may have been corrupt…but it was stable. The staff was safely contained," Castiel explained as he began to pace. "It's been chaos up there since the war ended."

"Still?" asked Rose. "It's been over a year now…"

"Yes, still," he sighed. "In that confusion, a number of powerful weapons were stolen."

"Wait," started Dean. "You're saying that your nukes are loose?"

"Yeah, I'm afraid so," he regretfully agreed. "But you've stumbled onto one of them."

"Do you know if just one angel stole the weapons or multiple?" asked Rose curiously. "I mean, if we can find this angel then maybe we can get them to tell us who took the rest or where the others are hidden?"

"Perhaps," Cas agreed thoughtfully. "Regardless, we must find the weapon that did this first."

He took a deep breath, looking at the three humans standing shoulder to shoulder.

"I need your help."

Sam's dry chuckle broke the silence first. "That's rich, really."

The locust jar was tossed to Sam with a huff, his agitation obvious.

"Sam, Dean, Rose, my "people skills"," he exasperated, using his fingers for quotation marks to further explain his frustration, "are "rusty". I have spent the last "year"…as a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. But believe me, you do not want that weapon down here. Help me find it or more people will die."

The final note of severity hung in the air and Rose lowered her gaze, shamed by the hard time they were giving him earlier. They had no idea the past year had been hard for him too.

"All right. Well, if the angels didn't pull the trigger, then that brings us back to motive," said Dean, turning back to the table full of paperwork.

Castiel nodded at first but then asked, "What?"

"Back to the case," said Sam.

She waved him over to the work station. "If the angels didn't do it, then we're looking for someone who would have a reason to hurt the officers."

"And now we have three dead cops and the only thing linking them is this," sighed Sam, going through the papers again to pick up the article about the accident. He read the newspaper clipping aloud. ""Father of slain suspect calls for investigation." He's the main lead now."

"But what about-"

Before Rose could finish adding her two cents, the motel suddenly vanished and they were standing in nicely furnished living room. She grabbed Sam's arm to steady herself, her center gravity still lurching forward while her stomach tried to play catch up.

"Cas, a little warning next time," snapped Dean.

A new voice cut through their conversation.

"How'd you get in?"

Looking up, an older gentleman was quickly getting to his feet. It was easy enough to identify him after pouring over the paperwork for their case. The man was obviously Christopher Birch's father. His own coffee table was covered in newspapers and judging from the headlines, it was about the recently deceased cops.

"Mr. Birch, settle down. Federal agent," instructed Sam as he showed his badge. Rose recognized the "agent" voice of firm direction and no nonsense. It was all a part of the appearance.

"But you can't just walk in here—"

"Quite a collection you got there, huh?" Sam continued, pointing to the newspaper clippings.

"What are you trying to-?"

"Look, we know the truth, all right?" he said. "Chris didn't have a gun on him when those cops shot him. They set him up."

Mr. Birch nodded, his mouth forming a tight line. "Yeah. They're all getting theirs."

"And who's giving it to them, Darryl?" asked Sam, gaze sharp enough to pierce.

Dean spoke up next. "Darryl, did you kill Toby Gray and the others?"

"Me? I didn't kill anyone," defended Mr. Birch. He gestured to the clippings. "Look at how they died."

"You smote them with the staff of Moses," stated Castiel, his deep voice ringing with finality.

Darryl Birch looked confused. "What the hell kind of Fed are you?"

"We don't have time for this." He stepped up to the man, the coffee table standing between them, looking him right in the eye. "Where is it?"

"Leave my dad alone!"

The four of them turned at the voice and they were face to face with a young boy that was pointing a piece of wood at them like it was a loaded gun.

"Is that—"

"Yes."

"Shouldn't it be bigger?" asked Dean.

Rose agreed. "Looks more like the stick of Moses to be honest…"

"Yes, it's—" His eyes narrowed as he studied it further, "—been sawed off."

The kid didn't seem deterred by their reaction, keeping the staff level with their chests. "Leave him alone, it wasn't him."

Darryl tried to speak up. "Aaron, get out of here—"

Castiel moved quickly, pressing his index and middle finger against the man's forehead and he dropped onto the couch, out like a light.

"What did you do to him?" demanded Aaron with a shake in his voice.

"He's all right, he's just sleeping," explained Dean quickly.

In the span of a blink, Cas was beside the boy and plucked the staff from his hands, examining the piece and giving the boy a very stern look.

"Cas, take it easy," warned Dean. He slowly started to walk toward the boy. "Listen we're not here to hurt you, okay? But we need to know. Where did you get this thing?"

Aaron started to back up the closer Dean came, his voice fearful.

"Please, don't kill my dad…" he begged.

Rose slipped beside Dean, giving his jacket a tug and she place herself between him and the boy. There were times where being the girl came in handy, especially when someone needed to prove that they weren't a threat. If that meant using her gender as a mediation tool, then so be it.

"No one's killing anyone," she promised. "We just need to ask a few questions."

"It was me. I did it," Aaron confessed immediately. He was still shaking visibly before them.

"You heard her, nobody's killing nobody," reaffirmed Dean. "We'll start easy. What's your name?"

He nodded, swallowing thickly. "Aaron. Aaron Birch."

"Okay, Aaron Birch, where did you get this?" asked Dean, pointing to the cut staff.

Aaron paused. "You won't believe me."

"Try me."

He looked at them, registering all of their serious expressions and he took a breath.

"It was an angel."

"An angel?"

"Those liars, they killed my brother and nothing bad even happened to them," he explained, getting his second wind. The heat was creeping back into his voice. "It's not _fair_. So I prayed to God every night he would punish them."

"But God didn't answer…" guessed Rose softly.

"No," he agreed. "But _he_ did."

"His name. Did he give you a name?" insisted Castiel.

"No. He just said I could have justice," he explained, "but I was going to have to take it myself. He gave me the stick."

"Really?" asked Dean. "He just…gave it to you?"

Aaron gave a barely perceptible nod and Dean made his disbelief apparent.

"Come on. He didn't just _give_ it to you, did he, Aaron?"

There was a pause before the kid spoke up again.

"I bought it."

"You bought it? Heh," laughed Sam. "With what? Your allowance?"

Dread had started to steadily drip through her veins as soon as he started talking about a prayer answered by someone other than the big man himself. _It's not fair…_ Oh how that sounded all too familiar.

"Your soul…" spoke up Rose, her lips barely moving.

Aaron looked to her in surprise and gave a nod. "Yeah. My soul."

The boys were quiet for a moment as the words sunk in.

"You sold your soul to an angel?" asked Sam.

Dean was next, turning to Cas. "Can that even happen?"

"It's never happened before," he said slowly. "An angel's buying souls. That could explain why he cut the staff into pieces."

"More product, more souls," finished Rose. "But I thought only demons were interested in souls?"

"Who is this guy?" demanded Dean.

"We'll find him."

He moved quickly again and with the barest touch of the boy's forehead, he dropped into instant unconsciousness and he was draped over Castiel's shoulder.

"What'd you do that for?"

"Portability."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, they were back in the old motel room. The papers, laptop, and locust jar all right where they left it. Castiel dropped the boy onto the bed where he bounced on the old creaky mattress.

"Cas, you realize you just kidnapped a kid," stated Dean in shock at the abrupt change.

"If the angel we seek truly bought this boy's soul—" he paused to rephrase his answer, "—When a claim is laid on a living soul, it leaves a mark, a brand."

"What, like a shirt tag at camp?" guessed Sam.

"I have no idea," stated the angel. "But I can read the mark…and find the name of the angel that bought the soul."

"How?"

"Well, painfully for him," he said, starting to roll up his sleeve. "The reading will be excruciating."

"Wait, wait, wait!"

The guys turned to look as Rose stumbled forward, still regaining her balance from the second sudden teleport of the day. She ran her hands through her hair to push the free strands back as she caught her breath.

"Why—why does it have to be excruciating?" she asked, looking between the boys and the angel. She kept her gaze on Castiel, the back of her neck daring to flush. "Last year, when you—when you met me, you knew right away that my contract was with Crowley. Why can't you do that this time?"

"Dude, you could tell just by looking?" asked Dean.

Castiel gave a sigh. "While the cases are similar, the imprint on Aaron Birch's soul will be more difficult to read due to the lack of contact with the angel. The only way to see the imprint now is by reading the brand on the soul directly."

A warmth bloomed to life deep inside her almost as if in prideful reaction to his words. Heat crawled up the back of her neck, tinting her cheeks pink and she kept her gaze forward, not wanting the Winchester boys to see her involuntary reaction.

"Whoa, whoa, " said Dean, moving forward once Cas started to roll his sleeve up again.

"Dean."

"He's a kid, Cas, a kid—" He turned to his brother for backup. "Sam."

He was quiet for a moment, his arms crossed over his chest. His expression didn't change as he glanced back to Castiel.

"Any permanent damage?"

"What?!"

"Physically, minimal."

"Then by all means, stick your arm right in there," he snarked.

"Dean," exasperated Castiel, "if I get the name I can work a ritual to track the angel down."

"I'm all for that, but come on," he argued. "There's gotta be another way."

"There is no other way."

"You're gonna torture a kid—"

"I can't care about that, Dean," he snapped. "I don't have the luxury."

His exhaustion was evident, noticed Rose, even for an angel. Everything just screamed tired. His actions, his facial expressions, even his coat was more rumpled than usual. The fact that he couldn't find any other option other than essentially torturing the young boy's soul spoke volumes as well. She couldn't begin to fathom what the angel had endured the past year to beat him down so hard.

Taking one more look at them, Castiel turned his attention to the kid. He moved his hand slowly and Rose could only stare in shock as it seemed to slip past the boy's stomach, sinking deeper than physically possible. A bright white light shone through and that's when he started to scream. Chills ran down her spine at the sound. Even in his forced unconscious state, his body was still protesting the invasion. His screams became shrill, escaping in short bursts off pain and she could feel her stomach roll at the sound. It was going against everything she stood for personally to stand by and watch as a child was hurt.

She turned to look at the boys for some kind of reassurance. Sam had grabbed Dean's arm to keep him back, the older Winchester obviously upset as well. Sam was the calm one, as always. Though she was concerned by just how cool he was with the whole situation. He always was the clear headed one but there wasn't even a trace of unease crossing his features. None that she could tell anyway. Judging by the look on Dean's face, the lack of reaction was a bad sign of some sort.

Finally after what felt like hours of skin crawling anxiety, Aaron's screams shifted to whimpers and the blaringly bright light faded. Castiel carefully pulled his arm back and corrected his sleeve with a sigh.

"He'll rest now," he explained to them.

Sam was the first to speak up. "Did you get a name? What is it?"

"I thought he died in the war," he said, beginning to pace the room. She glanced at the boys before speaking, trying to keep the atmosphere leveled after the soul-torture.

"Was he a friend of yours?" she tried.

"A good friend."

Dean didn't bother to hide his annoyance. "Your frat buddy is now moonlighting as a crossroads demon."

"Balthazar. I wonder…"

"So we can find him now, right?" pressed Sam.

A new voice appeared and Rose flinched at the sight of the new person in the room, going for the knife hidden in her jacket.

"Balthazar," he repeated. He gave a smug smirk to their angel. "Thanks, Castiel, we'll make good use of the name."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he was lunging at Castiel with a very distinct silver blade. Dean snagged her and pulled her back as he and Sam gave to the two a wide berth. Fortunately, Castiel was just as fast, bringing up his own blade, identical to the stranger's. The sound of metal crashing was sharp in the small motel room. They had a few clashing hits, both fighting to overpower the other, their blades locking together.

"And by the way, Raphael says hello."

With a quick jerking motion, Castiel had forced him across the room but the advantage was quickly lost as the other angel laughed, showing that he now held both blades. Rushing at him, Cas was able to sidestep him in time and grab his wrists, grappling for the blades. The two twisted together and there was a clatter as the especially shiny weapons dropped to the ground, sliding over toward the hunters.

Not taking his focus off his opponent, Castiel used the opening and charged. Grabbing his suit jacket, he used their combined momentum to break through the window with substantial force, sending both bodies into a multiple story freefall.

Panicking, Rose hurried to the shattered window with the boys right behind her, scanning the ground for their angel. Car alarm wailing, it didn't take long to see where the two had landed. The unknown angel had crashed into the windshield while Castiel's impact crushed the top of the car. Both were still moving, albeit gingerly. As soon as their status registered, the opposing angel vanished and Castiel a moment later.

"My car…" groaned Sam.

Of course, of all the cars to land on it was their ride.

Dean gave a nod. "Okay. Silver lining."

"He's gone."

Rose flinched and whirled around at his voice. Stashing her own blade, she stepped toward him, concerned.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine—"

"Who the hell was that guy?" demanded Sam.

"A soldier of Raphael," he said, moving once again. He began riffling through the few cupboards that were there in the room.

"Raphael?"

"Wait—the _archangel_?" asked Rose, voice squeaking. "There's still an ongoing fight with a top tier angel? I thought they knocked it off by now?"

"Raphael won't stop until he wins."

Sam was next. "I'm sorry, what's going on here?"

"I can explain later—"

Dean brought his hand to the angel's chest, stopping him from his random wandering. What was he looking for?

"No, not later, now," he instructed. "Stop, all right? There's too many angels, Cas. I don't know who's on first, what's on second—"

"What is second?"

"It's who's on first you should worry about."

"Don't start that." Dean gave her a look and she grinned in returned. She couldn't resist.

Castiel ignore her quip. "It is simple. Raphael and his followers…they want him to rule heaven. I and many others, the last thing we want is to let him take over. It would be catastrophic."

"You're talking civil war," said Sam.

She looked at the three of them, worry starting to gnaw at her. A heavenly civil war? She couldn't imagine what that would entail.

"But why?" she asked. "What is there to fight about? The apocalypse is over so shouldn't things return to normal?"

"That's exactly the problem," said Castiel, "which is why we have to find Balthazar and his weapons before Raphael does. Whoever has the weapons wins the war."

"What happens if Raphael wins?" asked Dean. "I mean, what does he want?"

"To end the story the way it was written."

"Which means?" added Rose.

"The apocalypse, the one we derailed?" guessed Dean.

"Yes, that one," he agreed, shifting through one of Sam's duffel bags. "Raphael wants to put it back on the rails."

"Wait, what?" she yelped.

"Why?"

"I need myrrh."

"Myrrh?"

Before he could explain what he meant, he was gone.

"Friggin' angels."

The sound of movement made them turn around and Castiel was pushing their paperwork to the side, drawing on their surface with white chalk.

"Why does Raphael wanna bring back all this crap?" asked Dean.

"He's a traditionalist."

Rose blinked in confusion. "What does that mean in angel terms? That he _wants_ the world to end?"

"And why didn't you tell us?" demanded Dean.

There was a pause.

"I was ashamed. I expected more from my brothers." He topped shaking his in disappointment to look up at the three of them. "I'm sorry."

Another sigh. "Now I need your blood."

"What? Whoa, whoa!"

Grabbing Dean's arm, he pulled him forward and slid a knife across his open palm before Rose could finish reaching for his jacket. By the time she tugged him back, the blood had already dripped into the ceramic bowl that was procured from nowhere.

"Why don't you use your own?"

"Wouldn't work, I'm not human."

She quickly found the bandages in Sam's bag and was wrapping his hand as Castiel poured a flask into the bowl, chanting in a language she couldn't understand. Dean flinched when she secured the bandage and she tossed the remaining roll back on the bag. She didn't even think twice about it though Dean gave her an odd glance, flexing his hand with the bind. It may have been an odd reaction to him but she saw Sam's slight smirk. After the cases they worked, it became second nature to patch each other up. While the youngest Winchester was actually quite adept at taking care of his own injuries, she liked to her best to help.

The chanting had finished but Cas was stock still and his eyes were closed.

At the sound of sirens, Sam spoke. "Uh, Cas, how long does thus spell take?"

The bowl continued to steam and it was another solid moment before he spoke.

"Got him. Let's go."

"Whoa, whoa, wait," stopped Dean. He pointed to Aaron Birch lying unconscious on the bed. "What about him?"

The sirens were becoming louder as they drew nearer.

"Don't you think the police will take him home?"

There was a slightly awkward pause.

"Well…I guess so?"

* * *

It was night by the time they had tracked down the location of the rogue angel. Castiel had teleported them onto a nicely manicured lawn where a large home and pool resided. Dean broke the silence first since no one else was moving or saying anything.

"Huh. I was expecting more Dr. No, less Liberace."

Rose gave a shrug in agreement and the others remained silent as they started to make their way toward the house. They didn't know how much time they had to prepare. There was no telling whether Balthazar would bolt or if word got back to Raphael. Without a word Castiel vanished, presumably inside the house to face his once-dead friend and they were left to hold down the fort.

"Red, this way," ushered Dean.

Slightly confused, Rose changed her course, originally following Sam out of habit, and jogged after his brother. The wind was beginning to pick up and the delicate hairs on the back of her neck started to stand on end with the growing electricity in the air. A storm was brewing and fast.

"Here."

There was an alcove formed from the building's structure with just enough space for them to fit. Peering around the edge they were able to see quite a lot of the yard from both directions. She saw Sam slip away as well and she knew the angel blade, she learned it was called, was hidden in his jacket.

"Hey," whispered Dean. "You notice anything weird?"

She raised an eyebrow and bit back a laugh. "You mean besides all the angel drama?"

"Besides that," he grunted, moving around to get better situated. She grimaced when she felt his hand on the top her head, allowing him to peer over making her feel like the short kid in class. Again.

"I mean about Sam."

"Sam?" she repeated. "What about him?"

"I dunno, just," he let out a breath, making some of her hair stir, "something's not right."

"Not right, how?" she asked. "He seems all right to me."

"That's it though." He huffed again, she could feel his chest rise and fall with the big breath. "He's kicking down doors and he didn't so much as flinch as Cas holy-tasered that kid."

Guilt rolled her stomach at the image of Aaron Birch writhing in pain as Castiel read his soul. The bright white light emitting from his little body, veins glowing red under his skin as he cried out.

"That was…terrible, but Sam understood that," she tried to reason. "It wasn't like he was thrilled to do it."

"Yeah, but he sure as hell didn't do or say anything to stop it."

She turned her head slightly to look over her shoulder at the sound of his growl. There was something else going on, she could feel the frustration radiating from him.

"Hey…you okay?" she dared to ask.

"I dunno. But hey, what was Cas going on about Crowley's seal—"

Thunder and lightning cracked across the sky out of nowhere and with enough force for her to feel the tingle of electricity across her skin. While she was startled by the sudden sound, she was thrilled for the subject change. The last thing she needed was for Dean or Sam to start digging at Crowley's claim on her. She had no idea what she would even tell them. It certainly wouldn't go over well if they knew the exact details of their contract. That was a level of embarrassing she did not want to handle at the moment.

Three figures appeared on the lawn, all wearing suits and matching surly expressions. Gauging from their stance she would guess the guy in the middle was the infamous Raphael. He looked especially annoyed. In the span of a breath, Raphael and one angel vanished, assumingly into the house with Castiel and Balthazar. The remaining one started to prowl across the yard, the long blade glinting the low light. Taking a deep breath, she knew Sam was waiting in the wings with the one blade their team did have and she knew she had her part to play. Using her first two fingers, she reached behind and tapped Dean's leg twice to act as a signal.

Breaking away from their hiding place, Rose made her way up to the angel who was looking the other way as quickly as she could, her footsteps quiet.

"Hey, you the cabana boy?"

There was a definite upside to having red hair. Typically, it was annoying, hard to match with some colors, and she was genetically susceptible to intense blushing and burning even fluorescent lighting on a bad day.

In this case, it made her an easy to spot distraction.

The angel brought his arm back, readying for a strike but stilled when he looked past her. By zeroing in his sights on her, he didn't see Sam slink up behind her with his own blade.

"Yeah. I got one of those too."

There was a sudden rush of air and Rose felt cold steel press against her throat, her body firmly held by angel. Her knees dared to buckle under his iron grip.

"You think you can knife fight an angel?" he taunted Sam. The hunter smirked, twirling his blade.

Dean's voice was next.

"Who's fighting?"

They turned to see the eldest Winchester standing beside a sigil that was painted on the wall, gleaming wetly with blood.

"Peace out, douchewad."

As soon as his hand made contact with the symbol there was a blinding flash and she felt the angel fade away with a scream of anger, allowing her to take a deep breath of relief.

"C'mon, we don't have much time."

Nodding, she followed them into the house as Dean snagged the old ceramic pitcher that was tucked aside.

It was rushed work as soon as they got inside and Dean had just finished pouring the oil when they heard the sound of fighting. She quickly picked up the pitcher and ducked behind the pillar with Sam while Dean took the opposite one.

Rose dared to steal a glance, seeing the two figures making their way down the staircase. Lightning was still flashing outside and it illuminate the open stairs, allowing her to see them in clarity for a few seconds. Castiel was clearly hurt and Raphael had no problem as he continued to hit him. He gave a firm kick to the smaller angel and she flinched as he rolled down the stairs. It was hard not to jump into the fight to help their friend. It was a knee jerk reaction of hers, wanting to throw herself in the way instead.

By the time he had rolled to the bottom of the stairs, Raphael had reappeared behind him standing cool, calm, and collected. He watched with amusement as Castiel got to his feet and then brought his own arm down in a hammer fist on his neck, sending him to his knees again. If he could just step back just a couple more feet…

A silver angel blade appeared in his hand as he smirked.

"Somehow, I don't think God will be bringing you back this time."

Raphael brought his hand up high and grabbed the front of his trenchcoat. Rose started to move forward, armed with the pitcher, when Sam snagged the back of her jacket and held her back just as a new angel appeared from nowhere.

"Hey!"

Raphael stopped his movement and looked over his shoulder at the newcomer.

"Look at my junk."

Not wanting to risk anything, Rose fully hid behind the pillar again and closed her eyes just in case. When it came to angels, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"No-!"

His voice halted and there was sound of something crumbling, clattering to the ground slowly and then in a rush. When the sound stopped, she dared to peak and the new angel, Balthazar was explaining the white crystal item he was holding. There was a pile of salt along with an empty suit and shoes in the middle of it all.

"Same thing happened to Lot's wife. Iodize the poor sucker and your kitchen is stocked for life," he laughed.

Castiel pushed himself to his feet. "You came back…"

"Well, now Raphael will have to go shopping for a new vessel. Should give me a nice long head start on him," he said. "Until next time."

"Next time?"

There was the click of a lighter and Dean stepped out of his hiding spot.

"No time like the present." With flick of his wrist, the lighter was thrown onto the ring of nearly invisible oil they had freshly poured. It hadn't even hit the ground before the fire was up and surrounding Balthazar.

He turned around to see his state and he turned his glare to Dean.

"You hairless ape. Release me."

Dean wasn't bothered by the angry angel. "First, you're taking your marker off Aaron Birch's soul."

"Am I?"

"Sam. Rose."

They stepped out as well and Sam gestured to the pitcher and the remaining oil she was holding. He smirked while Rose tried to stay carefully neutral. She didn't want to antagonize any unnecessary angels. She would leave that to the boys.

"Unless you like your wings extra-crispy, I'd think about it," snarked Sam.

He looked to his fellow angel. "Castiel, I stood for you in heaven. Are you going to let one of them-?"

"I believe," he coolly interrupted, "the hairless ape has the floor."

There was a significant pause as Balthazar looked from Castiel to each human, giving a scoff and a sardonic smile.

"Very well."

He clasped his hands together tightly and brought them up as he closed his eyes. They all watched him carefully for a solid moment but nothing happened that they could see. He slowly bright his hands down and opened his eyes.

"The boy's debt is cleared. His soul is his own."

 _Just like that?_ Rose couldn't help but wonder. So even from a distance…Crowley could release her soul if he wanted? Would she know if he ever did?

"Why're you buying up human souls?" demanded Dean.

"In this economy?" he asked. "It's probably the only thing worth buying. Do you have any idea what souls are worth?"

"No," answered Rose, her voice sounding small. "What are souls worth?"

He turned his gaze to her and she held it, not wavering.

"Power," he answered firmly. He turned his glare back to Dean. "Now, release me."

He smirked. "Suck it, ass clown, nobody said anything—"

Castiel brought his hand up and slowly lowered it and the flames quieted, vanishing completely.

"Cas, what the hell?" argued Dean.

"My debt to you is cleared," he told Balthazar, not looking at the hunters.

Balthazar agreed. "Fair enough."

And just like that, he was gone.

"Cas, are you out of your mind?" Dean started to snap but even Castiel was gone in the next second.

"Friggin' angels. Come on!"

The three were left alone in the abandoned house with used oil on the floor and nothing but questions in the air. Why were angels buying human souls? What good was it for them? Why did they need the extra power? And more personally…would Crowley just "collect" her soul if he needed more power?

* * *

 **REVIEW! Sorry for the delay, but now we're officially in season 6! Bringing back the full episodes, no worries it won't be every single one but it should be fun! Not too much Crowley, some thoughts from Rose, in this one but that'll change next chapter: Weekend at Bobby's!**

 **Hope you enjoyed!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Nine**

* * *

The upside to being on mandatory rest meant there was plenty of rarely interrupted research. It also gave Rose plenty of time to work on her correspondence. She had made a quiet promise to herself that she would record her new life as best as she could and send the files to her little sister. Even if Grace wasn't inclined to the supernatural like she had been when she was younger, she was determined to give her as much information as possible for her own safety at least. It also allowed an open method of communication between the two girls. Back home she was listed as missing and with the amount of time that passed it was assumed that she was dead at this point.

Every so often guilt would rear its ugly head and she would feel sick to her stomach with what she was putting her parents through. They thought their eldest daughter was kidnapped and most likely killed, but there were no real answers to provide any kind of closure. Guilt also reminded her that she was bringing her sister into the unnatural lifestyle by association by providing her with information. She would most likely start picking up on things out of the ordinary and that could potentially get her in trouble or hurt her. But was ignorance better? The saying stated that ignorance is bliss but she knew it could lead to just as much damage. In her opinion, it was better to know and Grace was on the same page as well. She could arm herself with knowledge and be safer that way. It was the most she could since she wasn't living in the same town anymore. She couldn't just come running at the speed of a text. Hell, she couldn't even return to their hometown at all. She didn't know how to explain her absence for so long and she didn't know how well she could keep the secret of why she was kidnapped. She knew herself well enough that she would break down in tears and confess everything to her parents at the first question. At least she could keep talking to Grace.

A groan escaped her and she let her head fall back against the couch. All of the newfound free time allowed her thoughts to run away with her. Taking a deep breath, she sat up straight and turned the page in the book she was currently combing through. She tried to get more comfortable but the extra weight on her ankle made that difficult. Now huffing in annoyance, she spared the heavy brace a glare.

The reason for her return to Bobby's was due to a mishap that occurred during a previous case with Sam and Dean featuring an unreasonably strong werewolf. The monster had broken into the closed library and they were quick to follow, silently grateful that it was an empty building and there weren't any civilians nearby. She had happened to come across it first and it immediately engaged with her, lunging toward her with its jaws snapping. Everything had happened in such a blur, she only really remembered hearing it growl, the gleam of its sharp teeth, the tear of books as it used the shelves to its advantage, leaping down at her with its acquired height. Her mind was blank as she moved almost on autopilot. The silver blade was in her hand, the brothers armed with silver bullets, and she moved into its attack. By moving forward she slipped past its open guard and the blade sunk into its abdomen with a dull sound.

Time seemed to speed up as the two crashed to the ground. The werewolf gave one last whimper, and she was dizzy from the impact before she heard the foreboding creak of wood. Blinking, she forgot how to breathe when she saw the books start to fall from their shelves as the giant bookcase started to fall, leaning toward her. The shadow seemed to swallow her whole as she tried to scramble to her feet to get out of the way.

She couldn't remember what happened after that, unfortunately. According to Sam and Dean she had been pinned by the fallen bookcase, buried under the books that fell first. They had gotten her free and Sam carried her out while Dean got the car for them to head to Bobby's. She was left with a few big bruises, a headache, and a broken ankle. A least the case had been closed, she would've felt terrible if it was left unsolved because she was stupid and got hurt. Not even by the monster they were hunting but by a dumb bookcase.

So now she was back at Bobby's mending while the boys returned to the next case. To say she was restless would be an understatement. She would much rather be out there with the two brothers.

The phone started to ring from the kitchen and she brightened at the sound. Bobby was currently outside and she grabbed her crutches, pushing herself up with her good leg. It took her a moment to move from the study to the kitchen where all the phones were hooked up. The black landline was the one that was ringing and she smiled before picking up the receiver, knowing full well who it was.

"Thank you for calling Bobby Singer's How-to-Kill-a-Monster. My name's Rose, how may I assist you?"

" _Ha ha, very funny,"_ laughed Dean. _"Where's Bobby?"_

"Outside—" The door creaked as it opened and Bobby stepped into the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "—Here he is."

She held out the phone to the mechanic and took a seat on one of the bar stools, close enough to hear both sides of the conversation.

"Yeah?"

" _What happened? Fall and can't get up? How'd gimpy beat you to the phone?"_

She spoke up with fake-offense. "Hey!"

"Hilarious. What's up?" asked Bobby.

" _We're in Wisconsin. Six bodies, chests cracked wide open. No EMF, no sulfur, no hex bags. We did find this though. Hang on."_ There was pause, some shuffle and he was back on the line. " _Check_ _your Wang."_

He reached over and pulled up a window on the age old desktop and Rose peered around to see the image load. It was some kind of dark talon that was nearly the length of Dean's palm. Her brow furrowed in confusion and interest. They hadn't come across that before.

Bobby was on the same page as her. "That's a new one."

" _Yeah, we need an ID, ASAP. Thing's on a rampage. Call as soon as you dig something up."_

"Dean, I'm a little busy."

" _Kick Bo Derek out of your bathtub, we got a case. You got Rose too, so pick her brain."_

"I'll call you back," he sighed, hanging up the phone.

She gave the older hunter a reassuring smile. "I'm here to help."

"Gonna need it. I've never seen a claw like that."

The two made their way back to the study to settle in for a long night.

Hours passed as the two started to comb through the collection of lore Bobby had gathered over the years. She kept her own notes of what might apply as she researched, her notepad slowly becoming filled with crossed out lines, scribbles, and circled key words. The two were quiet, both buried in their own work and their own studying method. It was well into the day when Bobby broke the silence.

"Balls."

"Hm?" she mumbled, pulled from her thoughts. "Find something?"

"I think I'm on the right track, but I don't have the book I need," he explained. He got up from his desk with a groan. "I gotta make a run to the library."

"Sure thing. I can hold the fort here," she said, holding up one of her crutches. "I'm armed."

He gave a chuckle as he collected his keys. "All right. I'll be back later. You know the drill—"

"—Shoot, stab, or maim first. If anyone asks, I'm your niece. Don't let anyone into the basement," she recited. "Oh, and man the phones."

"You got it."

She called out to him as reached for the door, the teasing obvious.

"Be sure to wave to your girlfriend on your way into town!"

He gave a groan and shook his head, the door closing behind him. She giggled to herself and settled back into her work, pulling another large book closer to her. Maybe they needed to look at more…exotic monsters…

* * *

It was evening by the time Bobby returned with the book from the university library. When she asked what took so long he explained that he had to not only break into the library since they weren't open but then his car stalled when he was ready to leave. Rose made a quick and easy dinner for the two of them so that they could still work as they ate.

The night was quiet as they worked, only peppered with a question every so often that was sometimes asked just to make sure they were awake. Around two-thirty in the morning she noticed that the hunter had dozed off and she let him sleep, continuing with her work. When her own eyes started to close against her will, she pushed herself to her feet and started a new pot of coffee for them. The sooner they found out what the monster was and how to kill it, the boys could wrap up the case and no more innocent people would die because of the best.

Finally, around five in the morning, there was a break in the research and all of the signs that were described by the brothers matched a single monster. It was buried deep in Greek lore but it was there nonetheless. Bobby gave a yawn after downing another coffee and Rose's yawn was triggered as well.

"Want me to call 'em?" she offered. "You could rest if you'd like."

"Don't have time to rest today," he declined, "but knock yourself out."

Tossing the cellphone to her, she flipped it open and pressed 1 for Dean. It only made it to the second ring before it was answered.

"Mornin' boys," she greeted.

" _Hey, Red. You got somethin' for us?"_ She could hear the crinkle of wax paper and figured they must be grabbing breakfast.

"Straight to it then? You're hunting a lamia."

" _Come again?"_

"A lamia. It's a monster," she explained. "It juices hearts, chugs the blood. The thing is, there hasn't been one outside of Greece."

" _Yeah, well, looks like this freak is immigrating. Snacking on cheeseheads. How do we gank it?"_

"Couple of ways," she paused to yawn again. "But the easiest way is a silver knife blessed by a priest—"

" _Gotcha."_

The dial tone was ringing before she could finish. She looked from the phone to Bobby who had a similar annoyed look on his face.

"Well, you're welcome," she told the disconnected phone. "Rude…"

Using the crutches to push herself onto her feet, she started to ask. "Do you want anything for breakfast-?"

"Hey, I'm still here!" a voice yelled faintly from the basement.

The two groaned and Rose openly rolled her eyes.

"I forgot that you had your houseguest here," she teased lightly. "I'll get started on breakfast. I have plenty of extra salt for your friend if you need it."

"Thanks. Don't worry, she'll be fine."

The basement door was left open as Bobby made his way downstairs an Rose got started on breakfast. The hunter's kitchen wasn't like her mom's back home but it was cozy and she liked it in its own way. They had just gone to the store the other day so she did have a few materials to work with. Since it was just the two of them she didn't need to worry about making a big spread, but eggs and bacon were easy enough to put together.

She had just finished plating when the doorbell sounded. Cautious, she slipped one of hidden knifes into her waistband and made her way to the window to peek at whomever was ringing their bell.

Pulling the kitchen window curtain back ever so slightly, she caught a glimpse of the woman with blonde hair that was holding some kind of dish, straightening her hair as she waited. It was Marcy Ward, Bobby's neighbor. Relieved that it wasn't anything serious, she hobbled her way to the basement door. Forgoing one of her crutches, she used the remaining one and the railing to hop her way down the steps, leaving the braced foot up.

The demon was wearing a very pretty woman with long caramel hair and wearing a clingy black dress that was short in length and with a neckline cut low. Past the image of the person she was wearing, Rose could see the shadow of the demon's true self overlapping, her eyes red and shadowlike body writhing. She was currently tied to the chair and sitting in the exact center of a devil's trap while Bobby was standing across from her on the other side of the basement, holding a type of flamethrower over a barrel. They both turned to look at her and she gave a shrug.

"Sorry, it's for you."

Slowly, Bobby blew out the fire as he kept a withering glare on the demon. The doorbell rang again and he set the device down before making his way upstairs. He met her gaze and Rose nodded, taking a seat on the bottom steps to act of a kind of guard.

"Really? You're supposed to keep an eye on me?" mocked the she-demon.

Rose stretched out her injured leg carefully and gave a shrug. "That trap's doing most of the work. Shouldn't be too hard."

The demon glared at her, clearly annoyed with her situation. "Once I get out of here, you and that old geezer are _dead_."

"If you get out," corrected Rose calmly. "Which you won't, but I appreciate the hostility."

She made to say something else but she stopped, narrowing her eyes as she studied the girl.

"I can't believe it…" she breathed.

Rose quirked a brow in question. "Can't believe what?"

"You're the reason he suddenly vanishes, aren't you?' she asked but then scoffed at her own question. "Of course you are, his fingerprints are all over you."

"What are you goin' on about?" asked Rose.

"Crowley!" she snapped. "Your hunter friend is all pissy about his soul and you're wearing his brand like it's a neon sign! Why doesn't he just tear you apart to get his stupid soul back?"

Startled by the sudden vicious attitude, Rose did her best to keep her expression collected.

"How would I be of any help?" she asked coolly. "You're a demon, you have information he needs."

"How about _I_ rip you to shreds and you can see for yourself?" she seethed. "Or maybe he's waiting to use you as bait himself?"

"Sorry, but I'm no one's bait," she retorted. "That's some out of the box thinking though."

She gave a sharp laugh, tossing her hair back. "Please. I can see everything in that mind of yours-it's my specialty."

Rose didn't say anything, not wanting to continue the conversation as the blackness of the demon's true self seemed to flare to life, locking in on her. What was taking Bobby so long?

"Little Rosette Herondale, sold her soul to the big bad Crowley at the age of 16 to save her baby sister," she recited with a mocking grin, eyes sharp. "With self-esteem that low I'm surprised you didn't kill yourself before your ten years were up. Not that you hadn't considered it though. After all, who would miss you? Little boring Rose, no real friends, and you sold your soul so no real future, and you promised away your virginity so no sex life, what else was there to live for besides your stupid sister?"

She hadn't realized that she was standing upright with the crutch tightly in her hand.

"Oh, was that a sore point?" she laughed. "Maybe that's why Crowley likes you so much? Because you'd have to be a dumb bitch to give up your soul for someone so weak—"

Rose didn't know she was moving until she heard the resounding crack of her crutch meeting the demon's head, sending her crashing to the ground, still tied to the chair and well within the devil's trap. Her voice came out in a hiss, ignoring the searing pain that flared to life from her foot and up her leg.

"Watch. Your. Mouth."

"So you do have thorns," laughed the demon from her spot on the floor. "You humans, always so emotional."

"And you demons, always so arrogant," she shot back, taking her seat again on the step.

The footsteps became more pronounced as Bobby made his way back down the stairs. He stopped and looked between the two of them, since the demon was in a different position from before. Rose shrugged.

"She fell."

Careful of where he was stepping, Bobby moved the demon so that she was upright again and returned to his place by the barrel.

"Oh, she sounds nice," she mocked Bobby, gaze focused on him. "Are you gonna make sweet love to her before you stab her to death, Bobby? That is your usual thing, right?"

Rose gripped her crutch again, ready to use it but Bobby was ahead of her, using the flamethrower just above the barrel and the demon screamed in pain, her skin becoming red and inflamed, burning despite the distance. His demand came out in a yell.

"I want Crowley's name—now!"

The demon continued to fight her own screaming, the sound escaping between her teeth as her shoulders and neck burned, trying hard to resist.

"Crowley's name!"

"Okay—okay!"

He stopped the fire and she took a breath as her body sagged in the chair.

"MacLeod. Fergus MacLeod," she confessed. "I swear. We call him Lucky the Leprechaun behind his back."

Rose made a face at the inaccurate nickname and snarked, "MacLeod's Scottish, genius."

The demon spare her a glare that Rose matched, not taking any of her attitude.

"Like I was saying," she continued. "I don't understand why you aren't using _her_ as bait. I'd bet anything if you cut a couple of fingers off, Lucky'd come running. His mark is all over her, like a dog marking territory."

Bobby spared her a glance but didn't answer the demon.

"You got what you want. Now send me back—no!" She interrupted herself when she saw he hunter start to pour gasoline into the barrel. Now that Rose was standing, she could see some of the bones that were inside. The demon's bones?

"We had a deal," she protested.

"Gave it my best effort."

"No—" The flamethrower came to life and the bones caught like wildfire and the demon was left screaming, struggling in the chair. Her scream rose in one final pitch before she simply turned to dust, leaving the basement shockingly quiet.

* * *

Ring.

"Yeah, Garth, what do you got…I've never heard of a vamp doing that. Doesn't sound like our kind of thing. Drop a dime to the FBI."

Ring.

"Willis, FBI…No Garth, not me "the FBI" the real FBI! How're you still alive?"

Ring.

"You got Castle."

Ring.

"No. Yeah? Willis."

Ring.

"Uh-huh. Of course she's one of ours. If she says she's gotta dig that grave up, you better damn well let her."

The phones were ringing nonstop and it was taking both of them to keep up with the calls, neither one able to step away to so much as take a drink of much needed coffee. Heck, Rose never even liked coffee but she now depended on it when the days and nights ran together due to hunter work. The caffeine was a godsend and how she lived without it so long she had no idea.

Just when there seemed to be a second to breathe, there was the sound of someone banging on the door. With a groan, Bobby looked at the door with annoyance.

"I got the phones," assured Rose. "I'm not going anywhere."

Grateful for the extra help, Bobby made his way to the back door and opened it up to see Rufus Turner leaning against the screen.

"Oh, good. You're home," he said, out of breath. "Listen. You gotta help me bury a body."

He looked back at Rose who gave him a thumbs up, showing that she would take care of the phones, her crutches propped against the counter. Looking back at his long-time friend, he sighed and stepped outside.

"So what'd you bring it here for?" he asked.

"The law's on my tail," he said simply. "What was your guess?"

He gave him a pointed look and Rufus quickly defended himself. "What, what, what? They got lucky!"

"Yeah, or you're getting slow," he shot back.

"Oh, I'm getting slow. Yeah, says Mr. Sits-On-His-Ass-All-Day-Taking-Calls," scoffed Rufus. They made their way to the old white pickup truck and he lowered the hatch. He tossed back the back tarp revealing the figure of a young Asian woman with black hair and an obvious stab wound to her stomach.

"Vamp, shifter, what?" guessed Bobby.

"None of the above." He leaned forward and pulled back her lips to show the unique set of pointed teeth.

"Okami?" named Bobby in surprise. "Where'd you shiv it?"

"Get this, Billings," he told him.

"Only time I ever saw one of these was in Japan…"

"Duh. No one's ever seen one of these except in Japan."

He sighed. "For what it's worth, Sam and Dean are tracking a lamia in Wisconsin."

"Get out," he said, surprised. "I thought they never leave Greece?"

"Monsters lately," said Bobby. "Is it me or is it weird?"

"Yeah, well, it's definitely something." He glanced around. "So, you got a shovel?"

With the help of modern machinery, it didn't take much time a hole to be dug. Rufus stood to the side with a shovel in hand, grinning at the fast work.

"Man, I know what I want for Hanukkah."

When the hole was deep enough, Rufus brought the okami's body wrapped up in the black tarp and dumped her into the grave. The body gave a satisfying thump of a sound and they began refilling the hole. As they worked, Bobby filled him in on everything that was happening and how he was working to free his soul from its contract.

"So the son of a bitch's name is Fergus MacLeod?" asked Rufus.

"That's the son of a bitch's name."

"Where you gonna look?"

"Scotland," he answered. "Rose noticed it too. MacLeod is a very Scottish last name and he let slip that he likes Craig. It's a—"

"It's Scotch," he answered for him easily. "Only made and sold in a tiny area on the north tip of Caithness County. It's peaty and sharp with a long finish of citrus and tobacco notes."

Bobby could only stare in surprise at the nearly encyclopedic answer.

"What? What am I, a heathen?" he defended. "I know what Craig is."

After recovering from the shock of knowledge, Bobby continued, "Well, I got a hunch that that's where Crowley lived and died. Back when he was human. Few hundred years before he got the big squeeze in hell and came out a demon."

"And what about what the other demon said?" he asked. "You planning to use Rose as bait?"

"Not if I can help it," Bobby answered, loading another mound of dirt onto the grave. "But it doesn't hurt to have her there."

"Do you think he'd release her contract too?"

He shook his head. "I think it would take some serious power to do that. Last time I summoned him, it was clear that he has a mean possessive streak for our favorite redhead."

"Damn. Poor thing."

A moment of quiet shoveling passed before Rufus spoke up again.

"Y'know, I got contacts over there. Scotland," he offered. "I can make a few calls."

"I ain't asking for no help."

"I'm not asking for your permission."

* * *

Rose had been dozing off at the counter, standing guard by the phones, and woke up with a start when the door opened and Bobby made his way back into the kitchen.

"How'd it go?" she yawned.

"Another day, another body," he sighed. Opening the fridge he took out a beer and a glass dish containing some kind of cobbler.

"What kind of monster?" she asked. "And is that from your girlfriend?"

"From Marcy, yeah. And Rufus ganked an okami."

She allowed her confusion to be evident. "Okami? But they don't leave—"

"—Japan. Yeah. Monsters have been acting all kinds of strange lately."

"No kidding—"

She was cut off by the sound of a cellphone ringing just before Bobby could cut into the cobbler. Sighing again, he put the knife down and picked up the phone.

"Yeah—"

" _Another way to kill a lamia?"_ came Dean's voice.

"What happened to the knife blessed by a priest?" he asked.

" _It didn't pan out. What's plan B?"_

There was knocking at the front door followed by a firm call,

"Police!"

" _Come on, Bobby, get the lead out."_

He bit back a groan. "Where are you?"

" _Church. A rectory."_

"Is there a kitchen? Find salt and rosemary."

The knocking continued and Rose grabbed her crutches and made her way to the front door. She would have to buy him time. It took her a good minute to get to the front of the house and she opened the door with a friendly smile.

"Hello, sir. Sheriff Mills. How can I help you today?"

Sheriff Jody Mills was standing on the front porch with an officer she didn't recognized. He seemed less than amused at her greeting and flashed his FBI badge for her to see. She felt worry start to settle in when she immediately verified that _his_ federal badge was real, unlike the falsified ones they used on cases. What did the FBI want?

"Ma'am, I'm Agent Adams and you already know Sheriff Mills," introduced the agent. "We need to speak to Bobby Singer, the owner of this property."

"Of course," she agreed. "Come on in. It'll be just a second, he's on the phone…"Her words trailed off when the agent shouldered his way in, nearly upsetting her already poor balance. Jody quickly steadied her and gave an apologetic glance. She knew what kind of things Bobby and the others did, dealing with the supernatural. She was also informed of her situation and made sure that her missing person's flyer never made it to the station bulletin board. Sheriff Mills was a good person who did her best to spare them grief, but it was obvious her hands were tied in this case

"Bobby Singer," barked the agent as he marched into the kitchen. Bobby was still on the phone with Dean and wrapped it up.

"Mix the herbs and sauté over a high heat, cook well…okay mom enjoy the roast."

Agent Adams didn't wait for a second introduction and produced a sketch that was dead-on for Rufus, who had only left the property a short while ago.

"Mr. Singer, have you seen this man?" he demanded. "Rufus Turner, aka Luther Vandross, aka Rufus Studdard?"

"Quite a few names," Rose muttered under her breath for Sheriff Mills to hear. She gave an amused smirk.

"No. Never seen that dick," Bobby answered.

"How do you know he's a dick?"

"Lucky guess."

"Funny, because I got a couple guys working the highway," pressed Adams, "say they saw him here. Carrying a body."

"Well, that's ridiculous. Look, it's a work day, I gotta—"

"We just want to take a look around."

Bobby took a step forward with a firm look on his face. "You got a warrant, sonny?"

Adams matched his step.

"Well, do I need one, sir?"

Thankfully Sheriff Mills was just as annoyed as Rose and stepped in.

"Okay, fellas, put the rulers away. Zip up." She placed herself between them, turning to face the federal agent. "Look, Bobby here's kind of a crank. He ain't what you'd call a fan of Big Brother. Me and him—how long I been arresting you, 10 years?"

"Thereabouts," he agreed, his glare never straying from the agent.

"Yeah. We got history," she continued. "So, what do you say you just let me scope the place out? Is that okay? You can just wait outside."

The pause was tense but Agents Adams took a step back in silent agreement.

"Five minutes.

Sheriff smiled, "Great."

He turned and made his way back outside through the front door, nearly pushing Rose over again. She was an inch away from tripping him with her crutch. Today was not the day to test her restraint. She glared at his retreating figure as he stepped out onto the porch. Her agitation shifted to worry again as she watched his figure leave the porch. Hobbling back to the kitchen she could hear the sheriff and Bobby going back and forth.

"Why send him outside?"

"I didn't think you'd want him in here," exasperated Jody.

"I don't. Got a body in the basement."

"My point."

"Yeah, but I've got another body buried in the yard."

Rose took that as her cue to pipe up.

"Just so you know, the fed is wandering outside. He didn't stay on the porch."

Jody and Bobby both sighed.

"Damn it."

"Balls."

The two hurried outside and Rose mentally cursed her lack of mobility. She settled for half walking, half hopping to the room with the most view of the back where they had been digging earlier. Cursing under her breath, she could see the agent standing around the freshly dug ground.

* * *

It was night by the time Bobby had finished answering the agent's questions and Rose had dozed off in his office chair, being sure to be near a phone just in case. As soon as the car was gone, he was back in the house and on his cellphone again, the girl stirring at the noise.

"Rufus, get back here."

" _Get back—I'm two states over, Bobby."_

"The okami ain't dead."

Rose yelped, wide eyed and fully awake, "What?"

" _Of course it is."_

"Did you use a bamboo dagger?"

" _Yeah."_

"Blessed by a Shinto priest?"

" _I'm not an imbecile, Bobby."_

"Did you stab it seven times?"

" _Five times."_

"It's seven."

" _No, I'm pretty sure it's five."_

"Well, clearly it's seven times. The damn hole is empty." He huffed "What was it feeding on?"

" _Single white females. While they slept."_

"Shit!" she cursed. Rose was back on her feet, moving as quickly as she could to find the phone book. The closest victim that met that profile was Marcy Ward, their neighbor that was currently crushing on Bobby.

The back door was slammed opened as the hunter took off and she started to flip furiously through the phonebook to find Marcy's home number to call and tell her to get the hell out.

After finding the number, Rose continued to hit redial until someone answered. She was in the middle of her sixth try when the backdoor creaked open and she saw Bobby trudge into the house. Hanging up the phone she got up and quickly made her way over. He seemed to be in one piece but the side of his face was painted red with blood.

"Bobby! Are you all right? What about Marcy? The okami?" The questions poured out of her as she steered him toward the kitchen table, making him sit down while she got a damp cloth and the first aid kit.

"Don't worry. I'm not hurt," he reassured. "The okami's dead."

"Really?" she asked in surprise. "I thought you needed a special blade?"

"Wood chipper did the job."

"Huh. I guess that covers all the bases." She handed him the towel and grabbed him a cold drink.

"And what about Marcy? Is she okay?"

"Well, let's just say that she won't be inviting me over any time soon," he sighed, starting to wipe his face. Rose gave a sympathetic frown as she passed him the drink.

"I'm sorry, Bobby."

"It's all right. Story of my life," he shrugged, taking a drink.

"If it's any consolation, you still got me," she chirped. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

He gave a small chuckle. "You got me there, kid."

* * *

The next morning Bobby was on the phone again and Rose could hear Rufus' voice on the other end. She smiled to herself as the two talked, working on her own research while the friends bantered back and forth.

" _You're still alive, huh?"_

"Don't sound so surprised."

" _How about Godzilla?"_

"Put her down."

" _You just happened to have a bamboo dagger blessed by a Shinto priest around?"_

"Wood chipper."

" _Oh, okey-dokey, wood chipper. That pretty much trumps…everything."_ There was a small pause before Rufus spoke up again. _"Listen, Bobby, uh…thank you. I screwed up."_

"Forget it," said Bobby, settling into his chair at the desk. "I figure I still owe you more than you owe me."

" _Alrighty. Then add one more thing to the list. I got a lead on you boy, Crowley…"_

Rose couldn't help but perk up at the mention of the demon's name, that familiar warmth daring to stir within her chest. She quickly buried her nose in a book, not focusing on the words as she listened in.

"… _aka Fergus Rodric MacLeod…born in Canisbay, Scotland 1661."_

Bobby threw his hand up in exasperation. "I don't know what that's gonna get me."

" _All right, well, then behind Door Number 2, Bob. Crowley had a son."_

"Did he now?"

" _Name of Gavin. Moved across the pond after his parents bit it. Captained a trading ship that went down in Massachusetts in 1723. Cousteau wannabes found the wreck 30 years ago."_

"They fish out his bones?"

" _No. No. They did find his signet ring, though. It's part of the Treasures from the Deep exhibit…at the maritime museum in Andover."_

"I need that ring."

" _Oh. Oh, are you, um-? Are you asking me for my help, Bob? Bobby?"_

"I'm asking for the ring," he gritted. "And I'd appreciate…your help getting it."

There was a laugh. _"I'm way ahead of you. I'm headed for Andover now. Should be there around midnight. You're, um, you're thinking hostage exchange, aren't you? I mean, get the ring, you can summon junior's ghost. Get the ghost, you can swap Crowley his son for your soul."_

"Something like that…"

" _Let's hope that works out_. _Hell, even if it doesn't you could also go the Rose route, you know—"_

Bobby quickly hung up before he could say anything else and pinched the bridge of his nose from exhaustion. Rose lowered her book and began to fiddle with her pen nervously. So the she-demon was right…she was going to be used as bait…

"So…the Rose route, huh?" she tried to laugh but it came out sounding forced. "I can't assume that just a code name of some sort, can I?"

"It's not—it's not as bad as it sounds," said Bobby with a sigh.

"Is it because of what the demon said?" she asked. "Because of the…state of Crowley's mark on my soul?"

"Something like that," he agreed. "That and he's shown a real mean streak when it comes to you for some reason. I figured it couldn't hurt to keep you around when we summon him again."

"Keep me around?" she repeated.

"Course. What'd you think the plan involved?"

She gave a shrug, sheepish. "I don't know. The demon wanted to tear me apart so I figure whatever the hunter equivalent was of that."

"God no, I just want you to be there when he comes back," he assured. "Geez, kid, I'm not going to hurt you."

She gave a relieved smile at his words, thankful that it wasn't going to be as brutal as the she-demon wanted. Another part of her flared to life with warmth at the thought of seeing Crowley again, and she quickly busied herself with her work again before she could dwell on the strange feelings for too long, her smile lingering.

* * *

It was late at night when his cellphone rang again. With another sighed, he set down the knife beside the cobbler Marcy brought over and he had yet to eat. It was like life was trying to stop him from having the treat on purpose. He picked up the phone and flipped it open, glancing in at the study where Rose had passed out on the sofa, her crutches abandoned on the floor. She didn't so much as flinch at the sound.

"Dean, you all right?"

" _Yeah. Yeah, the lamia grilled up fine."_

He knew Dean well enough to know that there was more to story than a case update. "I sense a "but" coming on…'

" _It's Sam, Bobby,"_ he said. _"It's just…he's different. You know, and I get it. You go through something like that and you change. But something's not right to me."_

The line beeped and it flashed Rufus' number. Hope dared to spike, had he found something about Crowley?

"Dean—"

" _I've got questions. About that year, you saw him and I didn't—"_

He closed his eyes and interrupted the younger hunter. "I got another call."

" _You what?"_

"Just hang on. I gotta take this, it's important."

" _More important than Sam?"_

Before he could get drawn back into the conversation with Dean, he switched lines, praying for some good news.

"Rufus?"

" _The good news is I snagged the ring."_

Sirens were wailing in the background, steadily growing louder and he groaned aloud.

"Tell me that ain't—"

" _Yeah. Three guesses and one of them, it ain't the paramedics—I gotta stash this ring."_

"Don't swallow it," he warned. The last thing he wanted to do was wait for the ring to pass through his friend's intestinal system and turn up one way or the other.

" _Right. I'm swallowing it, Bobby."_

"Don't swallow it!"

There was the sound of Rufus swallowing with difficulty and taking a quick drink to chase it down.

"Damn it…"

" _Oh, hell…"_

" _Hands where I can see them!"_

" _Whoa, whoa. Yo, that is unnecessary force. I know my rights—"_

The call ended and he let out another sigh, sinking into the kitchen. He seemed to be doing that a lot, sighing or groaning. Damn he was tired. He pressed the button and switched back over to Dean's line.

"You still there?"

" _Bobby, what the hell?"_

"I—sorry," he apologized. He wasn't feeling up to explaining everything just yet, maybe when it was all ironed out. It was frustrating when he didn't have all the details figured out.

" _You know, you are the one person that I can talk to about this stuff. About Sam, about leaving Lisa and Ben. I mean, I don't even know which way is up right now. Bobby? Hello?"_

Guilt started to well up within him at the boy's words. He knew that the two boys had their own difficulties, Dean especially struggled with healthily expressing his feelings whether they be frustration, worry, or grief. He was always a sounding board for the boys who he loved as sons, but right then he couldn't focus. There was just so much up in the air as he tried to fight for his soul.

"I hear you, son. It just ain't a good time."

" _Yeah, okay. You know what? Forget it. I mean, I'm baring my soul like a friggin' girl here…and you got stuff to do. So that is—that's fine. That's fine. Seriously, a little selfish. It's not all about you."_

Selfish. The word made him sit up straight as his temper dared to rise at the barb. He leaned forward on his knees, voice lowering.

"Where's your brother?"

" _Outside."_

"Get him."

He poured himself a glass of whiskey while the two boys got together. Frustration was boiling under is skin at the term "Selfish", sending it up a few notches every time he replayed it in his head. Him, selfish? Of all the things—

" _You're on speaker, Bobby."_

"Sam, Dean? I love you like my own, I do. But sometimes—" He stopped to down the glass, steeling himself for the lecture he was about to bring down on the two.

"Sometimes you two are the whiniest…most self-absorbed sons of bitches I ever met. I'm selfish? _Me_? I do everything for you. Everything. You need some lore scrounged up? You need your asses pulled out of the fire? You need someone to bitch to about each other? You call me and I come through. Every damn time. And what do I get? Jack with a side of squat."

" _Bobby—"_

"Do I sound like I'm done?" he snapped. "Now, look, I know you got issues. God knows I know. But I got a news flash for you. You ain't the center of the universe. Now it may have slipped your mind that Crowley owns my soul and the meter is running! And I will be damned if I am going to sit around and—and be damned! So how about you two sack up and help me for once?"

There was a small pause before Sam spoke up.

" _Bobby, all you gotta do is ask."_

" _Anything you need, we're there."_

He took another deep breath as the frustration ebbed away from him, leaving him more tired than before.

"Well…glad we got that covered," he finished. "I'll call you when we have the details hammered out."

Hanging up the phone, he pinched the bridge of his nose while his head began to pound. Though he did feel a bit better after ranting to the boys, he still poured himself another glass.

"Bobby?"

Looking up, he hadn't realized that Rose had woken up and made her way into the kitchen. Her hair was a mess from her short nap as she hobbled closer, her face clearly showing her worry.

"Ah, sorry, kid. Didn't mean to wake ya," he apologized, but she quickly waved it off.

"It's nothing," she said. "But I'm sorry, Bobby, I should've been helping more with trying to break your contract with Crowley."

"Rose—"

"Please," she insisted. "I want to help. I'll be bait."

* * *

By the grace of Sheriff Mills, she was able to extradite Rufus from Andover to Sioux Falls and the hunter was brought to their front porch. They only had an hour with him before she had to call the feds to say he broke out. Fortunately, he already had the ring out of his system and all they really needed to do was boil it for sanitation purposes and they could work on the summoning.

Bobby was pouring salt in a circle around the candle, summoning design, and a bowl of crushed ingredients with the ring sitting in the exact center. He was reciting the spell in Latin, his low voice rumbling in the kitchen while Rose stood tucked away behind the counter. The signet ring started to levitate with his words, hovering midair.

The air turned suddenly frigid and her breath came out in a frosted puff of air. The sudden cold spot was a standard sign for ghosts and she gave a small gasp when the figure flickered into existence. He was a young man with dark hair and dark eyes, his clothes well-worn and crumpled. Judging by the way they were disheveled, it looked like the clothing was waterlogged. In the back of her mind she remembered overhearing that he died because the trading ship he captained went down outside of Massachusetts. He drowned.

Rose gave an involuntary shudder at the thought.

"Gavin McLeod?" spoke up Bobby.

He tentatively looked around, trying to figure out his surroundings.

"Is—is this…hell?"

"That's gonna depend on you," explained Bobby.

Gavin's gaze landed on the girl and she stilled at his scrutiny, not daring to move. She didn't want to ruin Bobby's plan on getting his soul back.

"But…you—you must be an angel?" he asked. He maintained eye contact and she felt her face warm at the comparison.

Bobby spoke up again. "Focus on me, Romeo. You Fergus MacLeod's boy?"

He gave a very slight nod, worriedly looking back to Rose.

"You and me…are gonna have a nice, long chat."

* * *

The basement was colder than usual as they helped set up the room for the confrontation with Crowley. A devil's trap was painted on the ceiling, above about where the demon tended to appear with a little distance from the summoning site. Rose helped gather the necessary herbs, well-familiar with what was needed to call a demon. Gavin was still present, occasionally vanishing from sight and appearing again in random intervals, hovering close to Rose as he watched them work curiously. With the extra cold it did help numb the pain when Bobby went to cut her hand to use her blood for the spell. It was her part of being bait so she didn't say anything as the knife cut a little deeper than she would've like. Blood dripped steadily into the bowl, heightening their chances of Crowley answering if it including a part of her, giving the impression that she was the one calling him.

Taking a seat on an unused desk, she set her crutches to the side to work on tying a cloth around her hand to bind the cut. Bobby had gone upstairs for a few last minute thing, leaving her and Gavin alone. She glanced up at the ghost, guilt making her stomach twist into knots as she thought over what Gavin told them about his father, Fergus MacLeod.

In life, Fergus was tailor and a terrible father to Gavin. He explained how he was constantly beaten, degraded, and just how much his father hated him, for reasons unknown to him. Maybe he never wanted to be a father, maybe it was hate for his own upbringing that twisted his sense of family, or maybe it was because his wife died in childbirth. Fergus sold his soul and died after the ten year contract was up. Once he was dead, Gavin moved away from home to start a new life across the ocean. His new life wasn't long before his ship went down and he died.

"Gavin?"

The ghost flickered into focus, looking at her curiously. She opened and closed her mouth twice before she managed to get the words out.

"I'm so sorry, Gavin," she apologized sincerely. "I really am."

He gave a shrug. "Nothin' to apologize for. It's well-ov'r now."

"But still…" she trailed. "it's not fair, what you went through. And I'm sorry that we had you go through the pains of explaining it all."

"If it leads t' justice, even just a bit, it's worth it," he explained, his Scottish accent thick. "I'm guessin' he has a hold on ya, my father?"

She blinked in surprise. "Y-you could tell?"

"Few people would bleed if they weren't involved," he said. "So what's it for ya?"

"Sold my soul, the same as Bobby," she said, unsure of how to quite explain it. "But I-I'm not worried about releasing my contract. I know what I did and I accept that, I even have extra time now which is a miracle in itself. I never thought I'd make it this far, y'know?"

"So…when you die, it's to hell for ya?" he asked slowly.

She nodded. "Yeah. Downstairs for me."

"Why'd ya do it? What was worth your soul?"

The question didn't bother her and she gave a kind smile. "I sold my soul to save my sister. She was terribly sick and wasn't going to make it, so I made a deal with Crowley and now, she's living a full and healthy life. Totally worth it."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Then I'm glad I was summoned. If my father can break Bobby's contract, then there's hope for ya yet. An angel don't deserve hell."

The tops of her cheeks burned pink at the comment and she quickly busied herself, using one crutch to make her way to Bobby's desk then she came back with his ring in hand.

"Here," she offered. "You can have this back."

His mouth dared to twitch into a smile. "That does me no good where I'm goin'."

"Oh." Her blushed now burned with embarrassment. "What—what would you like us to do with it then?"

"Keep it," he said. "It's much better with a bonnie lass like you than the bottom o' the sea."

Before she could protest, Bobby came down the stairs and she quickly slipped the ring into her pocket without another word and Gavin vanished again.

Adding the last ingredient, Bobby dropped the match into the mixture and it flared to life instantly. Rose felt the sudden warmth cut through the chill and tried not to flinch when Crowley appeared. He was standing just where they had estimated and the first thing she noticed was that he looked…tired.

Bobby seemed to pick up on this as well. "Well, you look like hammered crap."

"And you're a vision, as always," he returned easily. He glanced to Rose as well. "Hello, darling."

"Hiya, Crowley," she answered softly.

He looked up and saw the devil's trap painted in red. He gave a sigh. "Don't we both know how this game ends? Really, Bobby, you got to know when to fold them—"

"Word on the street is that ever since Lucifer went to the pokey," interrupted Bobby, "you're the big kahuna downstairs."

"I see you've been reading the trades."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"Mate, you have no idea. I would kill for an assistant right about now." He procured a glass and a silver flask from his coat, pouring himself a drink. "I thought…when I got the corner office, I thought it was all going to be rainbows and two headed puppies. But if I'm being honest, it's been hell."

"Thought that was the point?"

"You know what the problem with demons is?"

"They're demons?"

"Exactly," he agreed. "Evil, lying prats, the whole lot of them. And _stupid_. Try to show them a new way, a better, and what do you get? Bugger all."

Bobby calmly watched as the demon ranted and it didn't go unnoticed that as he was talking, ranting about work problems, he was looking past him to Rose and she was looking right back, just as attentive as she listened.

"You know, there's days…that I think Lucifer's whole "spike-anything-with-black-eyes" plan wasn't half bad," he continued. "Hmm. Feels good to get it off my chest. We should make this a thing."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Do I look like Dr. Phil to you?"

Crowley looked away from Rose, giving the hunter a once over.

"A little." Smirking to himself, he carried on. "Anyhoo, you're obviously not here for a social call…so on with it."

"I want—"

"Ah. I'll save you the recap. In fact, I'll do the short hand for you." He cleared his throat and used a mockingly Southern accent. "" _I want my soul back, idjit,",_ "Afraid not," _"But I'm surly and I got a beard. Gimme."_ Blah, blah, blah, homespun cornpone insult, witty retort from yours truly…and the bottom line is, you get bupkis. Are we done?"

"Just getting started."

Looking to the side, Gavin had appeared again.

There was a moment of silence as Crowley looked back and forth between the hunters and his long dead son.

"Gavin?" he half whispered. "Is—is that you?"

The ghost didn't answer him but held his gaze.

"It's been so long," said Crowley, his voice becoming tight. "I love you so—"

The act was broken by the demon smirking and giving a laugh.

"Sorry," he chuckled. "Your soul for my boy. That's it, right? I gotta give you credit for thinking outside the box on that one. But the problem is, I loathe the little bastard."

Rose felt defensive agitation prickle up at his remarks.

"Wanna torture him? Let me pull up a chair and I'll watch," he suggested. "Hell, burn his bones, send him down to me. We can have a family reunion. That's right, son?"

He slipped his hands into his pockets, amused. "You picked the wrong bargaining chip this time, my friend."

"He ain't a chip," clarified Bobby. "I was just using him to dig up dirt on you."

A flicker of worry crossed his face as Bobby continued.

"And since Gavin hates you maybe even more than you hate him…he was more than happy to squawk."

"What did you tell him, son?" Crowley asked carefully.

Now Gavin was the one who smirked at his father.

"Everything."

The cold left the room as he vanished entirely, leaving behind a pregnant pause as the three stood in the basement.

"We know it all now, Fergus," said Bobby, slowly walking closer to the devil's trap. He watched Crowley's gaze flicker to Rose for the briefest moment. "Now, you may be king of the dirtbags here, but in life? You were nothing but a two-bit tailor who sold his soul…in exchange for an extra three inches below the belt."

"Just trying to hit double digits."

He tried to smirk again but it was more of a grimace, his mouth forming a tight line. "So, you got a glimpse behind the curtain. And?"

"And now I know where you're planted."

Bobby picked up a phone off the cluttered table and tossed it to him, which the demon caught easily and slowly brought up to his ear.

" _Hi, Crowley,"_ came Dean unmistakable voice.

"Dean," he named. "It's been a long time. We should get together."

" _Sure. We'll have to do that when I get back."_

"Back?"

" _Yeah. Me and Sam, we've gone international. In fact, we're in your neck of the woods."_

Crowley's frown deepened.

" _Did you really used to wear a skirt?"_

"A kilt," he corrected. "I had very athletic calves. What's the game?"

" _Dominoes. In fact, we just dug yours up."_

"This is ridiculous," argued Crowley. "The whole burning bones thing. It's a myth."

"I know an employee of yours who'd disagree," countered Bobby.

A small pause.

"So that's where she got to."

"You demons," tutted Bobby. "You think you're something special. But you're just spirits. Twisted, perverted, evil spirits. But end of the day, you're nothing but ghosts with an ego. We torch your bones, you go up in flames."

Again, he saw Crowley quickly glance past him to Rose.

" _You hear that, Crowley?"_ asked Dean. The sound of a lighter could be heard clicking. _"That's me flicking my Bic for you."_

"Your bones for my soul," instructed Bobby. "Going once."

The lighter clicked. Crowley didn't move or say anything, his muscles coiled tight as he tried to figure a way out of the trap.

"Going twice."

The lighter clicked again and Crowley cursed,

"Bollocks."

He refused to look at the hunter as he raised his hand slowly. With a hiss of pain, the blood red ink of the contract surfaced on the hunter's skin and when he turned and lowered his hand, it started to disappear altogether.

"You can go ahead and leave in the part about my legs," gruffed Bobby.

Crowley rolled his eyes and brought his hand slightly up again to reinstate the one clause of their contract. Bobby turned to look at the girl.

"Rose?"

She gave a shake of her head, her gaze lowered. He turned to the demon and gave a smirk.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

"Now if you don't mind," he said tightly, glancing up at the devil's trap. "I have somewhere to be."

* * *

After collecting his bones from Sam and Dean and finding an absolutely secure place to hide them, buried beneath spell work and a variety of other counter measures, he returned to his kingdom to raise the promised hell.

The demons were blindsided by his rage that came raining down on their heads as he tore his way down one side and up the other. Every demon who had any amount of knowledge about his human life was brought to his and he tortured them mercilessly for every scrap of information they had about him and who they shared it with. Then those demons were collected and brought to him as he flayed them within an inch of their existence, their screams echoing loudly throughout the torture chambers. When he felt as if they were no longer useful, he killed them, rendering them to dust. Only those who gave the most offense were still left alive, writhing on the table as he carved into them. It was because of them that he was nearly killed by the Bobby Singer and the Winchesters. It was because of them that his human life was discovered, the details given by his son. Because the useless demons didn't know when to keep their mouth shut.

Stabbing a jagged blade into a demon's thigh, his scream falling on deaf ears, Crowley knew that he needed to take a break and cool his head. He was still thinking if he needed to kill every one of the demons who knew about him. He probably would but he needed a moment to himself to regain his composure. Where to go? Usually the throne room or his private quarters but he felt like he couldn't be around other demons or even stay in hell for that matter. He needed a space without black eyed backstabbers.

With hardly a thought he found himself standing in a quaint bedroom. Judging by the darkness and how the moonlight was shining through it had to be very late, he reasoned. Looking around, he found the room's occupant to be fast asleep in bed. Her hair was free from its usual confines, splayed messily across her pillow and her blankets were oddly mussed as well. She was partially covered but the cast she was wearing was exposed, the blankets arranged around it. How had she gotten hurt? Most likely from a case with the boys, he answered himself.

A glint of metal caught his attention and he saw the MacLeod signet ring sitting on her nightstand. She kept it? Why? What good did it do her?

New questions started to fill his mind as he studied her. Why was her blood used in the summoning? It had been quite some time since she called for him in that manner. He spotted her heavily bandaged hand and irritation flared to life again at the sight. Did Bobby know he would respond to the summons, thinking it was her calling?

On a more personal note, how much of his human life did she hear? Of course Bobby had the pleasure of reciting everything and he couldn't express how badly he wanted to shut the hunter up as he revealed the reason why he sold his soul. It was for an embarrassingly selfish reason and he didn't want her to hear that. He just wanted his human life and his reason for hell to just fade into the obscurity of history, never to be discovered. He wanted nothing more than for Fergus MacLeod to disappear entirely. Now she knew everything.

Even then, why didn't she ask for him to release her contact as well? He was in the perfect position and could not say no to her request on fear of death. When Singer turned to her she only shook her head, not even looking at him. Why didn't she ask to be free of him?

There was a small moan as the girl slept. Her brow was dotted with sweat and her face was scrunched up in some kind of agony. Her body twitched, trying to wake itself up but to no avail. Her breathing quickened, her jaw clenching as she fought whatever was happening in her mind.

That's right, she was still having nightmares of hell. Due to the complications of Castiel's angel sigils on her soul, he couldn't collect her nor did he have a proper end date to look towards. So she was left in some kind of limbo state, perpetually on the edge of a hellhound death complete with hellish nightmares. Both living and condemned. Which called the question again, why not have him release her?

"C-Crowley…"

He flinched at the small sound, the cry coming from the girl. She was still asleep, locked in the dream, but she had called for him. Daring to step closer, he wondered what that meant. Was she begging for him to end whatever torment she was undergoing? Cursing his name?

Now standing beside her, he could see her struggling to wake herself, pinprick tears rolling down her face as she suffered. Tired of his own unanswered questions, he leaned down and very lightly touch her cheek, his thumb brushing over the soft skin.

"Rosette."

With a sharp gasp, blue eyes flew open and she was awake. She locked her gaze on him but didn't pull away as she tried to catch her breath and focus. He found himself not pulling his hand away either, daring to brush her cheek again.

"Crowley?" she called, confused. "What—what're you doing here?"

"You called," he half-lied. "I came."

"O—oh," she stammered. "Sorry…"

He stood up straight again, looking around the room for a place to sit. He wasn't ready to go back to hell yet. There was a chair with a desk on the other side but that was too far. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed and made himself comfortable.

"Oh, here," offered Rose, carefully moving her cast limb away. "Let me move—"

"Give it here, darling," he instructed. When she looked at him in confusion, he sighed and moved her cast to his lap, making her squeak in surprise.

"Wh-what're you doing?"

"How'd you break it?" he asked. His fingers trailed over the set bandages, feeling the bulkiness of the material. Humans were always so fragile.

"Um, werewolf case," she explained. "Showdown in a library and the giant bookcase landed on us. Luckily that's all I broke. Loads of bruises though."

With a snap of his fingers, the plaster disappeared completely and he was looking at the damage. The skin was darkly mottled with bruises, indicating the force of the hit. Rose's breathing was shallow as he lightly brought his hand down her leg. She inhaled sharply through her teeth at the stinging sensation but he kept his hand moving at a steady pace.

By the time he reached her toes, the bruises were gone and the bone was mended. Just to be certain, he softly brought his hand down her leg again, starting from the knee and moved to cradle the curve of her calf as he examined his work. Everything was restored to how it should be.

"You said there were bruises," he stated.

"Well—yeah, but they're not too bad—"

"Show me."

When he met her gaze evenly, he noticed that he could tell she was blushing even in the moonlight. If he really focused, he could even see the small clusters of freckles on her cheeks, on her shoulders and down her arms. She was dressed in a tanktop and shorts, an easy outfit to get in and out of with a cast. Her eyes seemed luminescent in the cool lighting as she matched and held his gaze. Slowly, she brought her leg back and turned around. She gingerly lifted up her shirt, holding the material close to her chest while her back was bare to him.

She moved her hair over the front of her shoulder and he saw the nasty smudges of bruises covering her, all varying in shades of blues and purples, covering the pale freckles that were there as well. Reaching out his hands, he very slowly started to work his way down. Starting at her shoulders, he then moved to her shoulder blades, the back of her ribs, settling at her waist as her skin became healed once more.

She was so warm to him, he noticed. He found himself craving something more as his hands made their way down a second time, though unnecessary. His work was perfect, he knew that. So why did he want to have an excuse to touch her?

God, his head was aching with questions, most, if not all, of them were due to the human girl he was sitting beside. Hands lingering at her waist again, he sighed and leaned forward, his forehead resting on her shoulder. There was a slight flinch of surprise but she didn't say anything, she simply let him be.

"Rosette…"

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, maybe minutes, maybe hours. Only that once his questions and frustrations finally quieted, he had to take his leave and he vanished without a word.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Gotta go to work, I hope you all enjoyed! This chapter was so much fun to work on! Lots of Crowley stuff so yay!**

 **Next time: Live Free or Twi-Hard!**

 **Hope you enjoyed! Love to hear your thoughts!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Ten**

* * *

Rose found her thoughts wandering more often lately. As she and the boys worked on their next case, she allowed her mind to drift again, the paperwork lying forgotten on her lap as she sat on the trunk of the car.

She could clearly recall the feeling of his hands against her. Goosebumps had broken out and she shivered despite the warmth. His touch had been soft but purposeful, pressing against her leg with just the right amount of pressure. It did hurt when he first ran his fingers over her broken ankle, but the searing heat had been quick and relief immediately washed over her. When he brought his hand down her leg the second time, her nerves stood on end with electricity. She felt everything with a newfound sensitivity, acutely aware of his hand and the tips of his fingers pressing slightly against her.

Then when he told her to show her other bruises, she moved very gingerly as her heart began to hammer. She was unsure at first if he really meant it, but he didn't tell her otherwise and she tentatively began to lift her shirt. Beyond grateful that she was facing the other way, she grimaced at the twinge of pain as she lifted her shirt over her head and quickly gathered it to her chest to cover herself. The level of vulnerability was unreal and she felt a flicker of fear. He could hurt her if he wanted to. Then again, he could hurt her whenever he wanted to, he was a demon after all.

But when his hands touched her…

Goosebumps broke out again at the thought. She felt small and breakable under his hands as they so very slowly made their way down her back. His fingers even curled around her waist, settling for a moment. Just like with her leg, there was intense heat where the bruises were healed and he brought his hands down a second time.

" _Rosette…"_

When he breathed her name, she felt her heart skip a beat and her chest ached in response. She couldn't describe the tone he used when he called for her. It sounded like it was a sigh of relief but she could feel…something else. Like there was so much more coiled up tight but he didn't say anything else. His hands had circled her waist again and she did her best not to flinch in surprise as he suddenly leaned forward, his forehead resting against her shoulder. Doing her best to remain perfectly still, she found herself slightly leaning in to his touch. Time seemed to slip away and she had no idea how long they were together, no words exchanged between them. He was so warm, she just…

"Earth to Rose."

She started at the sudden voice, snapping back to attention. Dean had been talking on the phone with Lisa and she had tuned out his voice as she became lost in thought.

"Sorry, sorry," she apologized.

Dean raised a concerned brow while Sam started to go over the report he just picked up from the police station.

"Six girls in seven days. More disappearances than this city has seen in over a year," explained Sam, showing them the missing person flyers. "All about the same age and—"

"And cute," added Dean. Sam couldn't help but scoff at his brother and Dean shrugged. "Ice cream comes in a lot of flavors."

"Or one, in this case," spoke up Rose, pointing the images. "Look, all of these girls have brown hair and brown eyes. Whatever's taking them, it certainly has a type."

"Right," confirmed Sam. "Half a dozen girls, late teens, a shower away from greatness. Sounds like a profile to me. I wonder what else they have in common."

"Well, six directions to go here. Pick a number."

"Seven," decided Sam.

"There's another one?" asked Rose.

"The call just came in today," he said with a nod. The three loaded back into the Impala in silent agreement, making their way to the latest victim's home.

This was the first case she was on with the boys since her injury. Obviously the normal amount of time for a bone to mend didn't pass due to her supernatural assistance, but fortunately she didn't have to explain herself to the brothers. Bobby, on the other hand, demanded answers as to how she was miraculously healed overnight. Even though working as a hunter called for incredible lying ability and to be skilled in twisting the truth in a moment's notice, her mind went blank when Bobby asked her how she was better. She couldn't think clearly and not to mention that she didn't want to lie to the older hunter. It would be a new low. After everything he did for her? She couldn't lie to him.

" _C-Crowley…he healed me…"_

And the look of instant anger was enough to make her duck around the door's frame.

" _That demon was back in my house?"_ he had growled. _"And what did that son of a bitch want? He already has your damn soul, so why'd he come back? To gloat?"_

She quickly explained that he didn't say why, only that he did and then he left. She did leave out the part about him staying for a large part of the night, because she didn't want to make him any more upset. At least she had some sense.

Bobby gave a hard sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose, most likely due to the headache she was causing him.

" _Listen…I know, I ain't your dad,"_ he sighed. _"But you need to be careful. Whatever…this is, between the two of you, you gotta watch your back. Crowley's a demon and he's only out for himself. The further you can keep him from ya, the better. He's already got his claws in ya and I'm just worried that when you try to get away, you won't be able to. Do you understand me?"_

She could only nod in sheepish agreement, flustered by her actions and thoroughly shamed that she caused him to worry. Thankfully, when the boys asked how she was healed so quickly, Bobby covered for her and claimed it was Castiel.

And here she thought her life couldn't get any more complicated…

* * *

The three were welcomed into the seventh victim's home, her father more than forthcoming when they asked about his daughter.

"Kristen's a good kid," he told them. His exhaustion was evident, the imprints of shadows under his eyes from lack of sleep. "A little naive, sure. You try and be a good parent. Girls are hard…"

He meekly made eye contact with Rose and she gave a sympathetic nod. She couldn't imagine how her parents were handling the fact that their own daughter was "missing." So she did her best to push those thoughts and worries down, otherwise it was doomed to turn into a quick downward spiral of guilt and tears.

"We want to find your daughter," she assured him. "Let us help."

He nodded, swallowing with difficulty. "Upstairs. Last door on the left."

"Thank you."

Dean led them up the staircase, Sam following and Rose bringing up the rear. They were quiet, not wanting any family member to accidentally overhear that their case was actually centered around monsters and not just a regular missing person incident.

"What do you think he was talking about?" asked Sam when they approached the door. "Drugs?"

"No idea."

They both looked to her and she gave a shrug as Dean reached out for the doorknob. "Hey, c'mon, us girls are complicated. I mean, there's drama, acne, mood swings and—"

When the door swung open, her sentence took an abrupt turn as he flipped on the light.

"—vampires."

The lights being on barely made a difference in the darkly painted room. Though it did allow the dark color to contrast sharply with the various pale figures in the posters that covered every wall. They tentatively stepped into the room, hardly able to see where they were placing their feet. Dean even bumped into a life size cutout of some assumed vampire with unreasonably tall hair. She grimaced at the poster of the vampire biting into a girl's neck, tugging on her hair and creepily looking directly into the camera.

"Oh, this is so much worse," groaned Dean. "Were you like this?"

"Well, I sold my soul to a demon at sixteen, so I'm not really a good example for the average girl. But, damn…" she said, looking around. There was a four poster bed with deep red curtains, velvet by the look of them. A chandelier with red tinted glass. Even a candelabra made to look as if it was constructed out of bones and skulls.

"And here I thought my lava lamp was cool…" she muttered.

"So, vampires?" asked Sam.

"No, these aren't vampires, man," argued Dean, closing the door. "These…these are douchebags."

"Yeah."

"Every girl's dream."

"Wow."

They started to explore the room further, looking for any clues. Which was a little more difficult than usual given the…aesthetic of the room. There were ravens perched on bookshelves, black candles, creepy photos, everything that would be their red flag was this girl's design choice.

"A-ha. All right," said Sam. He pulled a laptop out from under her pillow, holding it up for them to see. "Let's see what we can see."

He took a seat at the desk and opened the computer. Another vampire image appeared along with the chime of a scream.

"Real cute," she sighed.

"Was this ever your thing?" Dean asked her.

"I was more of a werewolf fan, to be honest," she answered. "More expressive."

"That's just uncomfortable," commented Sam about the background image. The vampire was staring directly into the camera with his gold eyes.

"What's he so bummed out about?"

"He's supposed to be the stand offish love interest, if I had to guess," she said.

The two turned to look at her and she rolled her eyes at their expressions.

"Yes, I was one of these kids too. I try to repress my junior high years," she waved her hand dismissively. "Judging by her choice in mythical douchebag and these posters, she was crushing hard on the emotionally-unavailable character type."

"English if you could, Lady of Darkness."

She laughed at his jab. "You know, she liked the character that was like the "bad boy" type. He liked her but he was dangerous so he "has to stay away for her own good" sort of thing. An unrequited love with equal parts danger and drama."

"You didn't get out much, did you?" asked Dean. She smirked and elbowed him playfully.

"I was what you'd called indoorsy."

Dean picked up a book, examining the cover. The girl was wearing a white nightgown while the guy was standing in the doorway, looking over at her, his back slightly stooped.

"Look at this. He's watching her sleep. How is that not rapey?" asked Dean.

"Nice nightgown. Because every girl in this century has a standard issued white nightie to represent their virginal status," snarked Rose.

The computer screamed as Sam tried to guess the password. Dean opened up to a random page and started to read aloud.

" _He could hear the blood rushing inside her, almost taste it. He tried desperately to control himself. Romero knew that their love was impossible._ "

"Romero," she snorted. "Kinda hitting it on the nose with that one."

"Guys, shut up," scolded Sam.

"This is a national bestseller. How is that possible?"

"I'd bet you a dollar that there's a love triangle too," added Rose.

He dropped the book onto the bed. He snapped his fingers as an idea came to mind.

"Hey, try, uh, 'Lautner'," he suggested to Sam.

He started to type but then stopped. "Wait, he's a werewolf. How do you even know who that is?"

Rose couldn't help but let loose a laugh. "Ha! You're nerds too!"

"You kidding me? That kid's everywhere," answered Dean, examining a pillow with another stoic faced guy. "It's a freakin' nightmare."

The computer screamed at the incorrect password.

"Hey, how many T's are there in Pattinson—"

The computer gave a peaceful chime instead, granting Sam access. "That's it. We're in. Ha."

They both returned to the desk, looking over Sam's shoulder. The computer had been left on some kind of social network site, posts available for them to see. The younger Winchester was clicking through the main page quickly scanning the messages.

"Well, her inbox is full from some guy claiming to be a vampire," he said with a sigh.

"A real vampire?" asked Dean.

"Well… _I can only meet you at night. I don't trust myself with you. The call of your blood is too strong_ ," he read. "Vampires phishing for victims?"

"It's probably just a human mouth breather, right?"

"That's what she would think too," said Rose. "So, she assumes that it's obviously some guy playing into the role she's obsessed with, and then it turns out to be a real vampire and, what, they drain her? Or actually turn her?"

"Right? Talk about easy prey," agreed Sam. "These chicks are practically throwing themselves at them. All you gotta do is, I don't know, write bad poetry."

"Huh."

He clicked on the most recent message. "Well, this guy wanted to meet her at a place called The Black Rose."

They turned to look at the so-named girl and she sighed.

"Great. Junior High me would be thrilled."

"Just reporting the news," said Sam.

"Give me a break," said Dean. "This is probably just your standard issue perv, right?"

Sam closed the laptop. "Only one way to find out."

* * *

The Black Rose was aptly named. The interior was dark just like the victim's bedroom. Low lights, red curtains, and scarcely a shred of color on any patron's outfit. Her dark green plaid shirt even seemed too bright for the atmosphere. She had taken a seat at the bar, ordered a drink from the bartender with blue and purple hair, and worked on scoping out the area. They might gain too much attention arriving altogether without a black jacket, facial piercing, or dyed hair between them. So, she had lost at rock-paper-scissors and had to go in first.

She sipped her drink as she glanced around the bar. The place was pretty busy with most tables full and the bartender constantly filling orders. Idly, she swirled her drink in her glass, doing her best not to be too fidgety. A few pairs of eyes had roamed over her from her short time there which made her skin crawl. Only one guy had tried to use some poetic line as she walked in, comparing her hair to the beauty of a flame. Fortunately, her glare was sharp enough that he quickly lowered his hand, his intent to touch her hair vanishing. She was quick to mentally scold herself. She needed to be smoother, not so twitchy at every motion.

Slowly, she brought the drink to her lips again and took a sip. Not actually drinking much of the liquid but giving the appearance. She took a breath, forcing herself to try and calm down. It had been a long time since she was in a bar or club scene of any kind. She had to remind herself that this time was different, not to mention that Sam and Dean would be there and she wouldn't be by herself for much longer.

Pulling the necklace from beneath her shirt, she began to fiddle with the signet ring she had taken to wearing. It was easy to hide with her usual clothing and the small item provided a little comfort as she rolled it between her fingers, her thoughts wandering.

The last time she had been to a bar was on her twenty-first birthday…

 _December 31, 2005_

 _The bar was packed with people and she could already feel her heart rate rising. She hated congested places, they always made her nervous. Too many things could happen, not to mention that it made it difficult to socialize with the loud music and too many bodies. The only reason she was there was because her work friends had insisted on taking her out for her birthday to celebrate her turning twenty-one. As much as she would much rather stay home, she had drawn the short stick and had to work that day and then she didn't have the heart to turn down their offer since they were so excited._

 _They had already been there for a couple of hours already and she was nursing her second drink, not too interested in finishing it. It took ages to finish her first drink and her friends were quick to refill it. While it was nice of them, she really wasn't interested in drinking. She would much rather have a soda or even a nice tea than spend twelve dollars on a fancy mixed drink. Though it was the perk of being taken out on her birthday, she didn't have to pay for the said drink._

 _As the night dragged on the bar only seemed to get busier and busier due to the holiday crowd. People wanting to be somewhere for when the ball dropped to kick off the New Year or it was the next stop on the bar crawl. When someone bumped into her sharply making her spill the rest of her drink, she decided it was time for her to go home. Not to mention, if she left then she could beat the rush home. Unable to catch sight of her work friends, she settled for sending them a text message to thank them for taking her out and that she was heading home and would see them on her next shift._

 _Buttoning up her jacket, she stepped out into the December chill. Relishing the sharp air against her flushed skin, she took a few moments to cool off, enjoying the sudden quiet. The music and chatter of the bar sounded again as the door opened, allowing a man to step outside. He was tall with broad shoulders and blonde hair, and she thought he looked familiar but shrugged it off. It was a small town, she probably passed by him in the store of something. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and held the carton out to her, which she was quick to politely decline. He lit one for himself and took a drag, shoving the pack back into his jacket's pocket._

" _So you don't smoke and you don't drink. What do you like to do?"_

 _She quickly looked to him again, alarm bells going off in her head. In a crowded bar he had noticed how much she actually had to drink which meant that he had been watching her. Her heart was beginning to pound. So if he was watching her that closely, that could mean that him stepping outside at the same time as her was not a coincidence._

" _Do I know you?" she asked._

 _He took another deep drag and she shivered as his gaze slowly roamed over her. Her brain was trying to scream at her to run to her car but she didn't know if leaving would cause him to follow her to her car. He was taller than her and he would have the advantage since she would need to fumble with the keys to unlock her vehicle, hoping that it wasn't iced over from the weather._

 _No, she had to leave. Pushing herself from the wall she gave a small wave, trying to keep the atmosphere as pleasantly neutral as possible._

" _Have a good one—"_

 _His hand grabbed her arm, fingers digging into her bicep as she was yanked off balance, her feet slipping out from under her. Before she could try to regain her footing or even catch her breath, pain shot through her body like lightning and she couldn't register the dull sound of her head striking the wall. Disoriented, she saw that the guy was talking, his mouth moving but her ears were ringing and she couldn't hear what he was saying. She was dimly aware of his hands on her body, roaming over any part of her that curved. Her movements were sluggish as she tried to push away, pinned by the wall. The music from inside made the wall against her back vibrate with the sound. People were beginning to countdown until the ball dropped, her friends thought she had left. No one would hear her._

 _There was the rip of her jacket's zipper, followed by the button on her jeans, and she couldn't quite get a good enough angle for a punch of any sort. He was too big for her to overpower and too wide for her to slip away from her current spot. So, she opened her hand and flexed, slamming her nails into the side of his throat. She pushed as hard as she could, sinking her nails as deep as possible into the thin skin and then ripped forward._

 _He let out a yell and pulled back allowing her to dart past him, slipping under his arm._

 _She scrambled for her car keys and hit the unlock button on the fob. When she slid to a stop, the door handle lifted but the door remained closed. Ice._

" _Shit—"_

 _With the force of a linebacker, the man crashed into her as he threw her to the ground. She could've sworn that something cracked but she had to focus on trying to regain her breath even as her vision swam. One hand was wrapped around her neck while the other one tugged at her jeans again. She squirmed, trying to wriggle free but he only squeezed harder. Her vision was starting to darken from lack of air and her heart was racing with fear. How was she going to get away? What could stop it? Who could help her? Her thoughts were becoming muddled as her grip lessened, one hand already to slipping to the cold ground._

" _C…Crow…ley…"_

 _A foot came swinging out of nowhere and the guy was sent flying back with a crack. Air came rushing back, stars blinking into her vision for a moment as she coughed hard while also trying to take in as much sweet, wonderful oxygen as she could._

" _Th' hell are you?" demanded the man. He scrambled to his feet, his nose bleeding heavily and distinctly broken._

 _Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she saw the edge of a black coat and it took her a second to look up, hope daring to flicker within her._

" _Well, aren't you a character?" came the smooth voice. "The name's Crowley."_

" _What kinda stupid name is that?"_

" _Can't be any worse than yours, Bentley Crapse."_

" _H-how do you know my name?" he demanded, getting to his feet. He was obviously bigger than the demon, but Crowley only chuckled._

" _Oh, we'll be seeing a lot more of each other, kitten."_

 _With a single snap, the man was nothing more than a smear of blood against the snow. She couldn't work her voice to scream out of surprise, flinching as the body suddenly exploded. Before she could try to wrap her mind around it or the fact that she was splattered with hot blood, the demon crouched down next to her and suddenly the cold parking lot was gone._

 _When she blinked, she found herself in her room back at her apartment. Confused, she looked down to see that she was no longer in her jeans and shirt, instead she was in a comfortable pair of sweatpants and old high school hoodie, sitting in bed. Had she changed? Was she dreaming?_

 _There was that familiar heat and she whipped her head to the side to see Crowley standing at her bedside._

" _Crowley?" she breathed._

" _The one and only," he answered with a smirk. Carefully, his fingers threaded into her hairline by her temple and there was a surge of heat, erasing the previous ache from the back of her head. She couldn't help but lean in to his touch. His warmth felt so good, relaxation starting to sink into her entire body._

" _H-how did you know?" she asked him softly, her eyes starting to close from the sudden exhaustion._

" _You called and I answered," he answered simply. "You should rest for now. You'll feel better in the morning."_

" _Can…can you stay?" she dared to ask. "J-just for a minute…?"_

 _He smirked at her word choice. "Well, I could spare a minute."_

 _She couldn't remember if he did stay or not. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out like a light. The next morning when she woke up, she found herself covered with a blanket she couldn't remember having on her bed._

Slipping the ring back beneath her shirt, she heard someone speak up just to her left.

"Aren't you a vision of hellfire," cooed the stranger. She turned to see some guy dressed head to toe in leather, a spike collar around his throat. He had to brush his dyed hair to the side and she could see the red contact lenses. Her stomach rolled as his gaze lingered everywhere but her face. "How about you and I go find some dark candles and do some Satan worshipping of our own—"

"Get lost."

He immediately shrunk at the voice as the large figure of Sam came into view, shouldering him to the side to take the seat to Rose's left. She heard Dean take the seat to her right and gave a sigh of relief. No one would be tempted to talk to her now, thank goodness.

"Sorry, Red. Should have sent one of us in with you," apologized Dean. "Didn't realize you were the gothic commodity."

"It's the hair," she joked weakly. "It establishes my witch status in the underworld."

"Well, we wanted emo chicks and this looks like ground zero."

A waitress in a black latex dress stopped by to drop off a couple of beers and Dean watched her leave in curiosity, the dress squeaking with the movement.

"You think she wears all that rubber to the beach?"

It only took a moment of observing for Sam to suddenly whisper,

"There."

Across the bar there was a guy who was coming on fairly hard to a pretty girl with brown hair. Just from looking at her, she fit the profile of the other victims.

"He's hitting on her hard enough," he reasoned.

"Seems to be the theme," muttered Rose. "But you think he's a real vampire?"

"It's hard to tell. And we got multiple choice," said Dean, nodding to another pair where the girl was feeding a guy olives from a drink. Brown hair, about the right age, and if they were closer she would probably have brown eyes. Another potential match.

"Great…"

It only took another moment for the first guy to take the girl by the hand and start leading her off the dancefloor. The second guy started to move as well, going in the opposite direction but without his girl.

"All right. You two go with Efron, I got Beiber," instructed Dean.

Leaving the drinks abandoned, they went their separate ways. The guy with the more casual attire of the patrons started to head to the lower floor and they were quick on his trail. Weaving and sidestepping past the moving bodies of the club, Rose was sure to stay close to Sam, not wanting to be separated. Vampires were fast and unreasonably strong, so hunters' strength relied in numbers to face them. She knew to stay close to Sam, after countless cases over the past year or so, it was in her best interest to stay near him. It allowed her to watch his back and due to their history together, she knew how to read his signs fairly well. She learned pretty quickly that Sam's reaction time was unreasonably fast. More than once she had caught an arm or a fist to the face because she didn't move or dodge fast enough. It didn't take long for her to step up her speed, to spare herself more hits at the very least.

It was weirdly quiet on the lower floor. The music was still pounding from the main level but no one seemed to be talking, their mouths unmoving. Their target was walking past the cubicle type rooms, glancing around but not stopping anywhere. He took a left and they followed accordingly.

A door was ajar and Sam led the way, carefully pushing it open further with his fingertips so that it didn't make a sound. It was some kind of storage room and there was a hanging light that was swinging slightly which meant there was just a burst of motion of some sort before they entered. The vampire had to be inside. No human could move with such a burst of speed that would cause a hanging fixture to move.

Rose was acutely aware of where each blade was on her body as she actively listened and looked for anything to be out of place. To kill a vampire they needed to decapitate them. With the monster's enhanced speed and strength, it was a deadly endeavor to get close enough to even try. She had a set strapped to each ankle, one to her left forearm, and the machete was carefully tucked into the back of her waistband, which was one way to ensure excellent posture.

Even with the one overhead light, the storage room was still dim. She kept her breathing soft as she matched Sam's footsteps, essentially acting as his shadow. They needed to be aware of the slightest sound—

There.

It was tiny scuff of a shoe from behind her and she was a flurry of motion. She knew that if she heard it, then Sam did too. With a well-practiced move, the machete was in her hand and she was whirling around, ducking low and lunging. The blade bit true, slicing into its midsection and she ripped it forward.

The vampire hadn't even finished a hiss before it's head dropped to the floor, the body collapsing after, completely gutted. Dark blood pooled onto the tile floor as it remained still. Breathing hard, she looked to Sam to see that he was okay, his blade barely spotted with blood due to the speed of his cut. She looked to hers for comparison, most of the blade colored red. She needed to work on her weapon speed too.

"C'mon, let's get to Dean," he said, his breathing even. It was as if he hadn't even decapitated a vampire.

"Y-yeah."

Another difficulty with working with Sam, through no fault of his or hers, was the fact that he was hard to keep up with. A fact she was immediately reminded of when they started to run where Dean was trailing the other potential vampire and victim pair. _Damn long legs!_ She couldn't help but mentally groan as the difference between them grew. Due to their height difference, it was easy for Sam to take the lead. He disappeared around the building's corner and she pumped her legs hard to catch up.

Rounding the corner, she half collided with Sam who was standing absolutely still. Catching herself before she fell to the ground, since running into the youngest Winchester was equivalent of hitting a wall, she followed his eyeline, confused as to why he stopped out of nowhere.

Dean was pinned against the dumpster by some of person, not their previous lead, but there was no doubt that he was a vampire as well due to his strength and that he was smearing his bloody wrist onto the hunter's mouth.

"Dean!" she cried out, bolting forward. The machete was in her hand again and she was dimly aware of Sam rushing forward as well.

The vampire let Dean drop to the ground and she gave a vicious upswing as soon as she was close enough. He sidestepped her attack but she was able to cut some of his hair, the curly strands floating the ground. She saw him start to move and she immediately dropped to duck his assumed hit. With their speed she had to react even faster, going with whatever naturally sounded right, not leaving time to think. Sam took the next move, swinging as well and the vampire dodged again.

With a cheeky smirk and a wave, he jumped high and began to scale the building with impressive speed. His cackling echoed in the alley, leaving the hunters behind. When he was absolutely out of sight, Rose turned to Dean, dropping to her knees to help him sit up. Grabbing a fistful of his jacket and working one arm around his back, she was able to get him upright.

"Dean!" she couldn't say anything useful beside his name. Judging by the excessive smear of blood across his mouth, it was clear what the vampire was trying to do.

"Rose…" he croaked. "Sammy…"

From the look in Dean's eyes, it was clear that the monster succeeded.

* * *

They were able to get Dean back to the motel room without any further incident, thankfully. He was still leaning heavily on her as she helped him into the room, Sam was already pulling the curtains closed. He suddenly staggered.

"Oh, my god, what is that _sound_?" he groaned, one hand pressing against his ear.

"What sound, Dean?" asked Sam.

He pushed away from Rose, standing on his own and his hand blindly reached out and knocked over the lamp, the bulb smashing. She quickly rushed to the outlet to unplug it from the wall. Dean was still stumbling around, his hands over his ears.

"Hey, come on," he groaned. He walked over to the wall and banged his fist against the cheap wallpaper. "Keep it down, damn it."

He brought his hand up again, closing his eyes against the overhead light. "Please, please, shut that off."

Rose hurried over and flipped the switch, dosing the room in darkness. Only weak light filtered through the thin curtains, allowing her to vaguely see what was happening.

"Better?"

"Dean, you should sit down," advised Sam.

"You sit down," he snapped. He paced for a moment before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Of all the ways to die, never thought I'd be going out like this."

"You're not going to die," Rose told him firmly.

"Dean, nobody is going out."

He turned his head at some sound, unheard to her. With a growl he stepped over to the clock and ripped that out of the wall as well.

"Samuel will kill me when he gets here," he said.

"No, he won't," Rose said. "We won't let him."

"Yes, you will, because I'm going to ask him," he argued.

"Dean!"

"You two won't do it. I know he will."

Sam spoke up. "Just hold on a second—"

"For what? Look at me!" he said, gesturing to himself.

"We can figure this out."

"How?!"

"We've called Bobby too so he's working as fast as he can," added Rose quickly. "We just—we just need to hang tight for a bit."

"Hang tight?" he repeated. "Any minute now I could rip out your throats. I'm a monster, Rose!"

He went still again, just like before when he was hearing something they could not. Rose watched him carefully, nervous about what he would do next. What was it?

His voice was rigid when he spoke again, looking at Sam.

"Why aren't you freaked out?"

"Of course I am."

"Really?" pressed Dean. "Because I can hear your heartbeat and while Rose's going like a jackrabbit, yours is pretty damn steady."

As if in response, her heartrate quickened at the acknowledgement and Dean glanced her way for a second before turning his glare back to his brother. She turned to look at Sam too, confused by his lack of reaction, outwardly and inwardly. He was always calm and composed but she attributed that to years of hunting, but in this case where his brother was the one danger, even his cool should be shaken in the least bit.

"That's because I'm trying to stay calm," he reasoned. The pause beforehand concerned her. It was only natural to be worried, it was his brother after all. So why…wasn't he?

"Dean, look, Samuel will know what to do."

"Come on, man. I'm a monster. Okay?" he said. "This is not a problem that you spitball. We gotta deal with this before I hurt somebody."

"Let's at least wait until Samuel gets here before deciding on anything drastic," she tried to reason. "As long as you stay here, no one else is at risk of being hurt. Please?"

Dean didn't say anything, bringing his hand up to rub his temple.

Sam broke the apprehensive silence.

"How does it feel?"

Both Rose and Dean looked at him incredulously. Was now really the time?

"Now?" asked Dean. "Now you wanna talk about my feelings?"

"No, I mean physically," clarified Sam.

"How do you think it feels? Not good," he grouched. He stalked across the room and started to pass Sam.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom, okay?" he snapped, clearly annoyed. "News flash, Mr. Wizard. Vampires pee."

When the door slammed shut, the remaining two shared a look and sighed. What were they going to do?

Sam was checking the cupboards for anything useful while Rose paced back and forth, anxiously waiting. Dean had only been in the bathroom for a moment but she was already worried with him out of sight. Everything was in a precarious balance at the moment and she would feel better if he was in the same room as them.

The faucet creaked to life in the bathroom, a steady stream of water sounding. She and Sam shared a look. The water was continuous, no splashing as if someone was washing their hands. Both of them quickly hurried to the door, Rose knocking.

"Dean?"

With no answer, Sam opened the door and she peeked around him, only to see an empty room and a wide open window.

* * *

"You can't keep track of your brother now?"

It was sufficient to say that Samuel wasn't all too pleased when they informed him that Dean had jumped ship. He came storming into the motel room with a pair of duffel bags, dropping them loudly onto the table.

"Well, I didn't think he'd just—"

"He's not himself, Sam," the older hunter scolded. "He's a monster and he's hungry. I'm honestly surprised he didn't try to drain your little friend here."

There was the Samuel Campbell charm. Always with the implications that she was the weakest of the pack. While technically true in comparison to their years of experience, she still thought she was at least helpful.

"Good to see you too," she greeted. He was always prickly when she was around due to her not being "blood". As if that was a guarantee of loyalty.

He spared her an annoyed look before turning back to Sam. "We gotta prepare to do the right thing."

"We are _not_ killing him!" argued Rose. His dislike for her be damned. "There must be something—"

Another voice sounded from behind her.

"Thanks, Red. But I told you he'd kill me when he showed up."

She whirled around to see Dean leaning against the fridge in the kitchenette for support.

"Dean," she breathed. She heard the drawing of a blade and she didn't need to turn to know that Samuel had pulled the machete. Instead, she stepped closer the recently turned vampire's side. "Are—are you okay?"

Samuel didn't wait for his answer and demanded, "Did you feed?"

He slowly stepped closer and she guessed by the weariness and that he still looked so run down, he didn't drink anyone's blood. If he did, his physical state would be considerably improved.

"I went to go say goodbye to Lisa…" he said, "…which, for the record, was a lousy idea…"

"Dean, answer the question," ordered Samuel. Rose sent him a pointed look. Obviously Dean didn't feed on anyone, but the older man ignored her.

There was a pause as Dean leveled them with a long look.

"You can relax," he gritted. "I didn't drink anyone."

"Thank god," sighed Samuel.

"But I came close." He slowly shrugged off his jacket, tossing it to the side before facing them again.

"All right. Do it."

There was a beat before Samuel answered, "Okay, if you insist."

Fear squeezed her heart tightly and made to step between them. "Dean, no—!"

"Stand back, Rose," he growled.

Samuel stepped closer and she firmly placed herself between them. He looked from her to Dean and said,

"Or I can change you back."

A pin could've dropped in the silence.

"What?" all three of them chorused.

Samuel glanced back at Sam before continuing. "I didn't drive all this way to kill you, Dean. I'm here to save you."

Rose a relieved yet annoyed sigh. "You could've opened with that, y'know."

He continued on like he hadn't heard her, pulling out an old leather bound journal from his bag. Opening it to a bookmarked page, he passed it to Dean.

"This is my grandfather's journal," he explained. "The cure's an old Campbell recipe, kind of like the soup."

"But less noodles and more monsters," quipped Rose. His usually stoic expression dared to quirk a hint of a smile. It was a concession she would take.

"Exactly. But no one's tried since God knows. From what I hear, the stuff's a bad trip."

"Awesome," muttered Dean.

"Hey, the cure is good," he said firmly. "But a lot of this is on you. You drink, you're done. It won't work. I'm talking one drop of human blood."

"I got it."

"Do you?" he pressed. "Because you will feed. It's a matter of time."

Dean closed the journal. "What else do we need?"

"Some stuff we got, some we gotta get," he answered honestly. "The trickiest thing on the list, blood of the fang who turned you."

"The guy was huge," warned Sam. Rose nodded in absolute agreement. While the stereotypical vampire was portrayed as lean and narrow framed, the one in the alley was broad and solid. Even as a human he would be formidable.

Samuel shrugged. "Nothing in the recipe about easy."

"I can get it," said Dean, stepping away from them.

"You gonna walk right into the nest?" asked Samuel.

"Well, I'm one of them ain't I?" he asked. "So all I gotta do is get in there, get the guy alone…and shoot him with so much dead man's blood he'll think he's rushing a fraternity."

Sam offered, "I should come with you—"

"No. Dude, you guys reek," he shot down. "You're like a walking hamburger. I gotta do this solo."

"Yeah, except we haven't been able to find them yet."

"No problem. I can smell them, two miles east of town," he said, pulling his jacket back on. "You guys get the other crap and meet me there."

"Dean," called Samuel. He stopped with a sigh. The hunter reached into his bag and pulled out a capped syringe filled with dark red, nearly black, blood.

"It's dead man's blood," he explained, as if they needed a refresher. "Now there's enough there to drop a linebacker and then some."

Dean carefully took the syringe.

"Good luck, son."

Without a word, he left the room.

Busying herself with packing up their bags, she was surprised to hear Samuel address the youngest Winchester.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Sam?"

She stopped in shock, turning to look at the two. She was slightly behind Sam so she couldn't gauge his expression but Samuel looked concerned. He wasn't paying attention to her so she kept her head down and continued to pack, listening to every word.

"What do you mean?"

"You knew about the cure."

She couldn't help but look up at that, her neck twinging at the sudden motion. Sam _knew_ about the cure? Why didn't he say anything?

"What? No, I didn't," he argued.

But Samuel continued, "We talked about it months ago."

"Not me. It must have been Christian or something," he denied.

"Huh. That's strange," he said. "Because if you _had_ known, it'd be almost like you let him get turned. Get a man on the inside, help us find that Alpha vamp we've been looking for."

Sam gave a scoff. "You serious? You think I'd do something like that, risk my own brother? What's wrong with you?"

While the words were the right ones, Rose couldn't help but feel like they lacked…a certain degree of emotion. He didn't sound offend, or indignant by the accusation. She knew if someone had claimed that she let her sister get turned into a vampire she would tear them a new one. But Sam was…he was just saying it, like it was a fact. No real inflection in his tone.

There was a pause where nothing was said and Sam spoke up again.

"Look, I'm just glad we can fix him."

With that said, he grabbed his bag and left the room, leaving the two behind. After a moment of silence, she dared to speak up.

"Are you…absolutely positive that you told Sam about the cure?"

He gave her a stern look. "Why? Have you seen something?"

She worriedly bit her lower lip, unsure. "I don't…I don't _know_ but before, when we were catching up with Dean, Sam was ahead of me and when I caught up…"

She felt uncomfortable saying anything against Sam, but the more she thought about it, the more it concerned her.

"…He was just _standing_ there as the vampire had Dean. Not in the process of moving, but just…watching. I crashed into him and he seemed to snap out of it, so maybe it was shock or…something."

For once, Samuel Campbell seemed to pay attention to her words, watching her intensely.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said after a beat. "Now, stay here and hold the fort."

"Wait—what?"

Before she could argue her case, the door was already swinging shut behind him and the hunter was gone. She let out a groan of frustration. So much for helping.

* * *

Thunder rumbled outside as she impatiently waited in the motel room, constantly checking the windows and her phone. Her heart skipped a beat as Samuel's van and the Impala pulled into the parking lot. With bated breath, she waited until everyone had exited their vehicles and she was beyond relieved to see everybody in one piece. They came back together which had to mean that it all went according to plan.

They arrived at the room a few moments and she quickly ushered everyone in. Sam and Samuel looked perfectly fine while Dean was covered in blood and still looked worse for wear, his skin having a gray tinge to it now. He was still fighting the vampire transformation, resisting human blood.

Not much was said as Samuel worked on concocting the Campbell vampire cure. Rose silently took inventory of everyone, thankful that they all made it out of the nest. She wanted to check on Dean further but she kept her distance, not wanting to push him over the edge with the chance for blood and she was aware of how fast her heart was beating which was probably adding to his frustration. He was cradling his side, a sign that he was hurt as well.

She hated this so much. Being unable to help her friends when they were hurt. It just reaffirmed what Samuel already believed. That she was useless. So she fell back on her new habit that she developed ever since she found out that she was going to live past her twenty-sixth birthday. Her hand slipped into her pocket and she gripped the deep red rosary tightly, feeling the beads dig into her skin as she hoped for the best.

In short order, the cure was finished as Samuel drew a syringe of the blood from the fang that turned him, adding it to the jar.

"If this works, it's not gonna be a kiddie ride," warned Samuel.

"That's great. Light her up," grunted Dean, leaning against the table for support.

"So, what'd you see in there?" asked Sam. She looked at the taller hunter in confusion. He had been odd ever since Dean was turned. The lack of proper concern for his brother's well-being, Samuel's accusation, and now the pressing for information. Goosebumps dared to break out as she watched him carefully. With each passing moment, it felt like there was more faith in what Samuel had assumed.

Had he let Dean get turned in order to get inside information on the alpha vampire? Her stomach rolled in disgust and fear at the thought. If he was willing to do that to his own _brother_ , what about her? If there was the first chance to use her as bait, without her knowledge, would he do it? All of the cases they worked, was she only still alive because it was convenient for him?

The thought sent a violent shiver down her spine.

Dean was equally confused by Sam's question. "What?"

"In the nest. What'd you see?" he repeated urgently.

He shook his head. "I can't hear you. Your blood is so freaking loud. Just—back off."

Samuel had just started to pour the liquid from the jar to the mug when Dean waved for him to hurry up.

"All right, give me the damn cure," he rushed, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. He was handed the mug and when he brought it close, he groaned at the scent. Giving a tight grin, he gave them a nod.

" _L'chaim_."

And he tossed the concoction back, his blood stained hands gripping the mug tightly.

He gave a shudder and a moment passed. Then another. Nothing.

Dean seemed also confused. "I don't think it—"

His body suddenly convulsed, throwing him to the ground before he could finish getting the words out. Rose lunged forward and pulled the empty bucket close to him in just the nick of time by half a second, blue liquid spewing from his mouth. She quickly threw her arms out to catch him and keep him upright, gripping the back of his shirt and the other against his chest to keep him from falling into the basin. The unnatural vomit was nonstop and she was worried that he wasn't able to catch his breath, he just continued to retch.

"Is it working?" asked Sam.

"Either that or he's dying."

Rose sent him a scathing glare, not amused by his answer. She flinched as Dean suddenly arched his back with a cry of pain. His eyes were dark and the sclera bloodshot, the blue residue now more black against his skin. Her eyes widened as the secondary set of vampire fangs became exposed, sliding down from the gums and over his natural teeth.

With a strained croak and another shudder, he fell into her and she dropped to the ground with his weight but she kept her arms tight around him, keeping him from crashing entirely. His body convulsed violently and she did her best to support him, not wanting his body to lash out entirely in case he hurt himself further. His grip was bruising, nails digging to her arms as he held onto her in return and she winced under his strength but she didn't falter. One hand was pressed firmly against his chest, right over his heart, making absolutely certain that it was still beating.

It seemed like ages until the convulsions finally abated. His coloring was returning to normal, still ashy pale from the whole ordeal, but his eyes had shifted back to their green color, the sclera white once more. Most importantly, his heart was still beating hard and steady.

* * *

The next morning everyone was packing up and cleaning up the room, trying to erase any sign they were even there. Besides the lamp being broken and the alarm clock cord being frayed, it was cleaned up as well as it could be. Fortunately the motel standards weren't too high so it wouldn't cause suspicion. Rose was in the middle of double checking her backpack when Dean gingerly made his way out of the room.

"Hi." Sam was the first to greet him. "So, what'd you see?"

"What?"

"In the nest, what'd you see?" he repeated, hopeful. While it was the next day, Rose was still bothered by him insisting about it.

"Uh, well, I'm still working through it…" he answered slowly after a pause, "but they're not figuring out anything on their own."

"What do you mean?" she asked tentatively.

"They're getting their orders from the top," he answered. "Where to go next, everything."

Sam asked, "They're top? As in…?"

"Their Alpha," he confirmed. "That's what I think it is. They've got some sort of psychic thing happening. He sends them, uh, I don't know, messages."

"Saying what?" pressed Sam.

"Honestly?" he said. " _Recruitment_ drive."

" _What_?" asked Rose, her confusion evident. "Wait—like they're actively looking for humans to turn rather than, I don't know, the ones they typically take?"

Dean nodded. "Their Alpha's building an army."

"Well, that's comforting," grumbled Samuel.

"That's not the worst," he continued.

"Then what is?"

"We don't scare them anymore."

There was a tense silence as everyone let the words sink in. Monsters that weren't afraid of hunters? That was very, _very_ bad news.

With nothing else to add, they started to collect their bags and make their way out to the parking lot and their respected vehicles. Rose made to grab the last duffle bag, one already across her body, but Dean beat her to it, slinging it over his shoulder instead.

"Oh—thanks."

"No problem."

They both made their way out of the room, well behind the others and she matched his pace, unsure if he was lingering because he was still hurt or if he wanted to ask her something.

"Listen," he began, "I just…wanted to say thank you."

She raised a brow in question. "Thank me? What for?"

"For yesterday. For not letting me let Samuel kill me," he explained. "From what I can remember, you were pretty adamant about it."

"Well, yeah, of course," she gave a half sort of laugh. "I'm not going to let anyone kill you, Dean. Including yourself."

She gave him a friendly shoulder bump. "I don't know if it's obvious or not, but let me make it crystal. You and Sam are incredibly important to me."

"Aw, is this going to be a chick flick moment?" he fake groaned. She bumped him this time with the bag unable to hide her grin.

"Hey now, as a chick I'm entitled to a few moments," she laughed. "And since we're having a moment, I want to apologize too."

"Apologize?"

She nodded. "About keeping Sam's arrival topside a secret from you. We thought—we thought it was for the better and that you were better out of the hunter's life. So, I want to apologize to you. We shouldn't have kept him a secret. I would've been just as mad if it were me."

At the mention of his brother, his face turned serious once more.

"Speaking of Sam, I wanted to ask you…when the vamp turned me, was Sam…" he took a breath, "was he just _watching_?"

She bit her bottom lip in worry. "I…can't say for certain. When I caught up, I ran into him because he was standing still, so I don't know for a fact if he was already standing or if he just stopped."

His expression darkened.

"I have a pretty good idea of what happened then."

"If we could," she said quietly as they stepped outside, "at the next chance, I should go back to Bobby's. I—I think we need to start digging again at how exactly Sam got back."

He nodded in agreement. "The sooner you and Bobby can get on it, the better. Something's up and we need to know what."

* * *

 **REVIEW! Dun dun duuuuuun, starting to suspect Sam now! And we get a bit more backstory for Rose and Crowley! Vampires and Alphas, this season is rolling right along! Don't worry, we get Crowley in person next chapter!**

 **Next time: Family Matters!**

 **Hope you enjoyed! Your thoughts would be love as always!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Rose liked to think that ever since training with the Winchesters and learning to be a hunter, that she wouldn't be caught off guard by something out of the blue anymore. That notion was quickly thrown out the window Thursday evening as she was making her way up the stairs. She thought she left a particular book on her desk or maybe the nightstand—

"Rose."

The low voice was immediately to her right, practically in her ear, and she jumped about a foot in the air, slipping on the steps and just barely managing to cling to the railing for dear life. Heart beating wildly, she found the angel standing on the same step as her and she tried to avoid using a more explicit curse.

"Jesus _Christ_!"

He looked her strangely. "No. I'm Castiel."

"I know, just…" She put her hand over her heart to try and steady it, feeling a little light headed from the shock. "Dude, not on the stairs…" she admonished weakly.

"I apologize, it was not my intention to startle you," he clarified. "Dean has summoned me and insists that I bring you as well."

"What? Is something wrong?" she asked, worry starting to build again. It had only been a couple of days since the vampire case, had something happened in that time? She and Bobby were hitting the books hard but they weren't turning up anything useful yet.

"It's Sam."

"Crap, give me a second."

As she made her way up the rest of the stairs she heard Castiel call after her,

"Dean said we should, uh, "shake ass." I can only assume that means he wants us to be quick."

She ducked into her room and grabbed her duffel she kept packed for moments just like this, where they needed to leave immediately. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she jammed her shoes on quickly as she hopped back to the angel, the laces undone.

"Ready—"

The scenery had already changed before the word left her mouth and she found herself in a motel room. Taking a moment to gather her bearings as teleporting always seemed to make her a little dizzy, she saw Dean pacing, a table scattered with paperwork and then she saw Sam tied up in a chair.

"Sam!"

Everything snapped back into focus and she immediately rushed over to him. Pulse fluttering with worry, she was shocked to find his face covered in blood, his nose broken without a doubt, and his head lolled forward indicating his unconscious state. She dropped her bag to the side and bent down in front of him, reaching out and touching his face very gingerly to examine the extent of his injuries. There was a nasty cut at his temple too.

Yes, they were worried that Sam wasn't himself after the last case, but her heart still gave a painful ache at the sight of him hurt. She had spent most of the last year by his side, learning what she could from him, and even if he didn't think it, she called herself his friend. So it hurt her to see him in such a state.

"What happened?" she asked, getting back to her feet. "And why is he tied up?"

"It's not Sam," growled Dean, his arms folded tightly.

"You did this?" assumed Castiel. Rose looked to the eldest Winchester with obvious shock.

"Dean!"

"You don't get it, Rose—it's not Sam!"

"It hasn't even been a week and you've already bashed his face in?! We just needed more time! We're researching a very unique, never-happened-before- _ever_ kinda thing here!"

"Listen, when he can lie to Veritas, the goddess of _truth_ , then there's no more waiting!"

There was a groan and their arguing stopped as they turned to look at Sam coming around. Castiel stepped forward and studied his face, holding one eye open wide.

"Let me go…" he mumbled, disoriented. It took him a beat to realize that his hands were tied behind his back, the ropes creaking as he tried his bonds.

"Has he been feverish?" Castiel asked to no one in particular.

"Have you?" demanded Dean.

"No. Why?" Sam asked. He looked at them all in confusion, his gaze landing on the girl. "Rose? When did you get here?"

"She's here to verify what you say," growled Dean. "Obviously we can't trust you, so we need someone who can call you out on your bull."

"Is he speaking in tongues?" asked Cas.

"What? No," answered Sam in confusion. Realization dawned on him. "Are you—are you _diagnosing_ me?"

"You better hope he can."

"You think this is-?"

"You think there's a clinic out there for people who just pop out of hell wrong?" he snapped.

"Dean!" scolded Rose, appalled. "Whatever this is, it isn't his fault!

He continued on. "Cas asks, you answer, Rose confirms and you shut your hole. You got it?"

Silent, he nodded.

Castiel felt his pulse at his neck before asking his next question.

"How much do you sleep?"

Sam paused before quietly answering, eyes flickering to Rose. "…I don't."

"At all?"

"Not since I got back," he said.

The angel and the hunter shared a look before turning to the girl who felt small under their combined stare.

"Well?"

"H-honestly…probably," she told them meekly. "I-I hardly sleep enough as it is and whenever we were together or working cases, he was always awake when I was so I figured it was something like that. I never asked outright."

"And it never occurred to you that something might be off?" he snapped. She bristled at the directed frustration, her own indignation flaring. Really? He was going to bite her head off for not knowing every little side effect of being in hell?

"Of course I did! I just didn't think it was my place to ask!" she argued. "He was in the cage, the worst part of hell, so if he had trouble sleeping who am I to judge? I just did the best I could and watched his back as much as possible."

"Dean, I knew something was off," spoke up Sam. "I just never told you. I didn't tell Rose either."

"What?"

"Sam…what are you feeling now?" interrupted Castiel.

He gave a humorless laugh. "I feel like my nose is broken."

"No, that's a physical sensation," the angel corrected. "How do you feel?"

"I think—"

" _Feel_."

He sighed. "I don't—I don't know."

It was quiet for a pregnant moment as the other three shared a look. What did that mean, he didn't know how he felt? Was he not hurt by his brother's doubt or at the very least upset?

Rose felt warning bells go off when Cas started to remove his belt from his trousers. What the hell?

"W-wait a minute—" she tried.

"This will be unpleasant," informed Castiel, ignoring her stammer as he studied Sam.

"What?"

"Bite down on this," he instructed, already slipping the doubled over belt between his teeth.

"If there's some place that you find soothing, you should go there…in your mind."

Before anyone could probably protest, Castiel pulled his arm back and then plunged it deep into Sam's midsection.

She covered her mouth to smother her own scream of surprise and Sam's yell was muffled through the material of the belt. She could only watch in shock as the eerie glow emitted from Sam's body. In the back of her mind, she vaguely wondered why the light wasn't bright white like it had been with Aaron Birch and instead was glowing red.

It felt like ages as Cas searched for something deep inside the youngest Winchester. Panic kept building as his veins began to burn bright red as well, and the only thing that kept her from stepping forward was the fear that she would mess the angel up and it would hurt Sam further. Then, finally, he drew his arm out slowly and the belt dropped to the ground as the hunter gasped for air.

When Castiel stepped away, Rose then allowed herself to rush forward, bending down beside Sam again. He was breathing heavily, his brow beaded with sweat and his body heaved as he tried to gather his bearing. She placed a comforting hand on his arm, unsure of what she could do to help.

"Did you find anything?" asked Dean.

"No."

She looked up at the somber tone, worried "Isn't that—isn't that a good thing?"

"I'm afraid not. Physically, he's perfectly healthy."

"Then what?" pressed Dean.

"It's his soul," he continued. "It's gone."

Rose felt the bottom of her stomach drop completely at his words, leaving her feeling cold and nauseous. His _soul_ was gone? Her grip tightened on his arm and she had to consciously make herself let up. How could his soul be gone? How? Or even, how did he get back without it? Was it of his own free will or was this someone's plan? How could he be functioning without a soul?

Dean seemed to be in shock as well.

"I'm sorry. One more time, like I'm five. What do you mean, he's got no—"

"Somehow when Sam was resurrected…" began Castiel, "it was without his soul."

"So, where is it?" asked Dean.

Her eyes widened as the realization dawned on her and she sank to her knees entirely.

"The cage…" she whispered, her voice cracking. "Oh my god…he's still in the cage…!"

Dean looked to her sharply and Cas nodded in solemn agreement. "That is my guess as well, that it's still in the cage with Michael and Lucifer."

"Is he even still Sam?" asked Dean.

The hunter in question watched the unfolding scene quietly from the chair, slowly working the rope loose. It certainly wasn't the first time he had been tied up. He observed everyone quietly as they all took in the news. As was to be expected, he was the calmest of the lot, what with him not having a soul to allow him to worry about not having a soul. The irony was not lost on him.

Dean was frustrated, which was to be expected. Castiel was neutral, also normal, probably more worried about his civil war than one human's soul. Then Rose, well he had a guess as to how she was taking it all in. Judging from her look of wide eyed shock and despair, she was most likely blaming herself for not noticing earlier, which was a ridiculous sentiment. If his own brother hadn't noticed, how could she expect herself to do so? He mentally sighed, that wasn't a surprise. For whatever reason, the red haired girl was very hard on herself. He never asked her about it since it wasn't relevant and it pushed her to improve quickly as she learned to become a hunter. A benefit for him.

It was certainly helpful to have a partner who liked him, as it lent itself as another form of defense against whatever they were hunting at the time. Not to mention that it was easier to be around Rose rather than Dean. She was essentially a stranger, having only known him for a few days before he jumped into the Pit with Lucifer. They didn't have a history so that made it easier to be around her. She had nothing to compare his behavior to and he didn't have to act like he was walking on eggshells. It was a win-win.

Unlike being with Dean. When his brother was around he had to make certain that he was paying attention to how he acted and spoke. He needed just the right inflection or else he would notice something was different. Even then that wasn't good enough in the end.

"Well, you pose an interesting philosophical question," commented Castiel.

"Then get it back," demanded Dean.

"Dean—"

"You pulled me out."

"It took several angels to rescue you," he clarified, "and you weren't nearly as well guarded. Sam's soul is in Lucifer's cage. There's a big difference. It's not possible."

"There's gotta be a way—"

"Is someone going to untie me?" asked Sam. He saw Rose twitch at the request and he knew full well that she was wanting to help him but holding herself back for the moment.

"No," snapped Dean.

He sighed. "Listen, I'm not gonna—"

"How am I even supposed to let you out of this room?" he asked, stepping toward him.

"Dean, I'm not some psycho," he said. "I didn't want you to get hurt. I was just trying to stop the vamps."

He took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry. It won't ever happen again. Please let me go."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Rose giving him a firm look. He usual got that look when he used the wrong tone for the conversation. And judging by the look on Dean's face, she was right. Damn. Picking the correct tone was exhausting.

"You're kidding me."

"What're you gonna do, keep me locked up?"

"You say that like it's bad."

"Okay, fine. Look, I get it. I get it, Dean. I was wrong," he admitted. "But I'm telling you, I'm trying to get it right. It's still me."

"Is it?"

"Yes. So just let me go."

"No way in hell."

He sighed as Dean turned away and gave one good flex, slipping free of the ropes easily and he pushed himself to his feet.

"You're not going to hold me, Dean," he explained. "Not here, not in a panic room, not anywhere. You're stuck with the soulless guy so you might as well work with me. Let's fix this."

Dean stepped up to him with a warning, "I'm going to be watching every move you make."

"Fine. Sounds about right to me," he agreed. "Keep Rose here with me too, she knows this me probably the best out of all you."

Rose didn't know if she should blush or pale as Dean looked her way and she kept her back firmly straight. She was here to help as much as she could. If that meant she needed to stay close to a hunter that was soulless and more dangerous than she already thought, then so be it. Her heart was beating hard but she steeled her resolve. She was back to square one after all: rescue Sam from the cage. The fact that his soul had been there a year already was enough to make her inside twist into knots.

Castiel stepped forward and pressed two fingers to Sam's forehead, clearing away the injuries that Dean had inflicted.

"If we're gonna figure out what happened, we need to find out who yanked you out," said his brother. "You say you don't know?"

"No idea."

"Then we start a list," he decided. "If it's so hard to spring someone out, who's got that kind of muscle?"

One particular demon came to mind and again, Rose felt light-headed. He was now the King of Hell, that kind of status upgrade had to come with a power raise, didn't it?

"I don't know," answered Castiel. He turned to Sam. "You have no memory of your resurrection?"

"I woke up in a field. That's all I got."

"No clues? None?" Castiel asked again.

Sam paused to think again and gave a half sort of shrug.

"Well…I've got one."

* * *

The Impala rumbled as they made their way to Campbell base camp, the chain link gate being opened for them. Rose was in the backseat as always, warily watching the unknown hunters. She wasn't ever properly invited to the hunter HQ but she had tagged along with Sam plenty of times, much to Samuel's annoyance. While some of the others were okay, she never strayed from Sam's side if she could help it. They were all so serious, she was worried if she so much as breathed wrong they would pump her full of rock salt and silver bullets.

Walking into the main building, she was sure to stay between the brothers for her own peace of mind and to hopefully keep Dean from being too trigger happy with the now soulless Sam.

"Gramps throw a barbeque and leave us off the e-vite list?" quipped Dean. The other hunters didn't acknowledge him, continuing to work on cleaning guns, sharpening weapons, and pouring salt into shotgun casings.

One hunter gave a laugh, stepping up to greet them.

Christian.

"Sam," he said, reaching out and gripping his hand and giving him a pat on the back. The bro hug. He regarded Dean coolly, giving a nod of his head.

"Dean."

He gave the girl a wink. "And Rose. The whole gang's here."

She gave him a tight lipped smile, not at all amused. Ever since her first encounter with him, they were immediately prickly toward each other. It wasn't that he rude or anything like that.

It was that he was a demon.

Due to the mangled state of her soul's contract she still had nightmares of Hell and she could see demons even when they were possessing humans. So when she first met Christian and the other Campbells, she could see the black shadow cloaking him, like a veil of some sort. Her realization must have been obvious to him because before she had the chance to pull Sam aside and tell him, she was yanked off her feet and suddenly in an empty hall of the hideout.

" _You so much as breathe a word about me to anyone…" he hissed, his mouth right against her ear. His hand was covering her mouth, preventing her from crying out, his fingers digging in hard to her face. Her feet couldn't even touch the floor. "I don't care who holds your contract. You rat me out and I'll flay you alive, girl. Do you understand me?"_

 _Before she could even try to come up with a coherent answer, his other fist sunk into her stomach and her cry was sufficiently muffled by his hand, vomit threatening to rise as her eyes watered._

Understandably, she wasn't too fond of him and much to her shame, she hadn't told anyone about him either. She just did the best she could when they were around each other and she watched him like a hawk.

"Hello, Newman," answered Dean. "Where's the man?"

Looking at them suspiciously, Christian gestured to the back office and the three walked past him without another word.

Dean barged into the office, the door slamming open causing Samuel to quickly close a drawer in his desk.

"Well come right on in," he offered sarcastically.

"Need to ask you a few questions," Dean told him upfront as Sam closed the door behind them. Rose grimaced when Samuel's gaze noticed her as well and she held her chin up defiantly, her hands in her pockets.

"I see you've brought the whole gang."

"Howdy," she greeted, trying not to be too annoyed by his constant dismal of her.

"So, what's wrong?"

Dean carried the main speaking role for their group.

"The day you got back, what happened?"

"We've been over this," he answered slowly.

"Well, recap it for our wingman."

On cue, Castiel appeared next to Samuel so perfectly it was like he was already standing there. The older hunter swiveled in his chair and eyed him for a moment.

"This Castiel?"

The angel gave a solemn nod.

"Huh. You're scrawnier than I pictured."

Rose rolled her eyes. Well at least someone else was on Samuel's List of Distrust with her.

"This is vessel. My true form is the size of your Chrysler Building."

Samuel raised an eyebrow and the girl couldn't help but sigh. They didn't need to have them both showing off or nothing would get done. So she took it upon herself to interrupt.

"Anyways, Gramps, you were dead and then, what? You pop up like a daisy?"

He turned his look to her and she held his gaze, allowing her expression to show just how unamused she was with him. Dean did send her a little smirk in appreciation though.

"Basically. One second I'm dead, the next, I'm on Elton Ridge," he answered. "Don't know how, don't know why."

The office was quiet as they studied him, trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or not. He picked up on their disbelief easily enough. It wasn't like they were trying to hide anything.

"I got nothing to hide, guys."

"You mind if Cas here double-checks?" Dean asked. Castiel rolled up his sleeve and Rose braced herself for the inevitable screaming.

This time, the soul search was fairly quick and she had to give credit to Christian's response time. He was kicking down the door, guns ready to blaze just shortly after the procedure started. Sam and Dean blocked him and Cas was already finished as they reassured him that everything was fine. He didn't leave until Samuel was able to grunt that he was fine and to leave.

Though he did make eye contact with Rose and she was sure to meet it with a glare. He hadn't touched her since their first encounter, but if he ever did, she now always carried something sharp on her person so to be ready. He may be a demon but she'd wager a knife to the eye ought to hurt like hell.

When the door closed, Samuel looked to them in disbelief.

"And what in the hell was _that_?"

"His soul is intact," announced Castiel.

"What?" he asked in confusion. "Of course I have a—" He stopped himself as he looked to them and his gaze went to Sam.

"What's going on, Sam?"

Rose nibbled the corner of her lip in worry. Damn it. If Samuel was without a soul they would at least have a link between the two resurrections. Now they were back to where they were before.

"Whatever dragged me out left a piece behind," Sam answered. He watched Samuel closely as he sighed and shook his head. "Did you know?"

"No, but I— I knew it was something." He paused again, looking at his youngest grandchild. "You're a hell of a hunter, Sam…but the truth is, sometimes you scare me."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. So even Grandpa Campbell was scared of him. The worry was becoming a tangled knot in her stomach as she dwelled on the fact, stealing a side glance at Sam. How could they fix him? Was it something that was even possible? Was he brought back soulless because it was what they wanted or because they simply couldn't bring back his soul?

He was still locked away in hell, the part of him that made him Sam Winchester. If she had died when she was supposed to…could she have gotten him out? Guilt was starting to twist its way into her thoughts, making her feel nauseous. He was never meant to go to hell, but she was because she sold her soul. Now he was trapped down there for saving the world and she was topside due to a clerical error.

"So, what's the deal here?" asked Samuel. "How do we get his soul back?"

"We don't know yet, but we have to," Dean said firmly.

"I'm here to help, of course," he promised. "What leads you working?"

"Dead ends, and you," answered Sam.

"Well, then, we'll just have to dig."

"Sam, Dean, Rose," named Castiel, tearing his eyes away from the window. The three stood at attention looking to him. "I have to get back."

"Is everything okay?" asked Rose, worried. The angel still appeared ragged and exhausted. It didn't seem like the situation in heaven was improving.

"You're leaving?" asked Dean.

The angel seemed annoyed at his tone. "I am in the middle of a civil war."

"Tear the attic up, find something to help."

"Of course, your problems always come first.

Rose quickly tacked on, "Please be careful, Cas."

"I'll be in touch."

She couldn't quite tell, but there may have been an appreciative glance from the celestial being but he was gone in an instant so it very well could have been her imagination.

Dean continued on after a pause to register Castiel's terse tone. Clearly the angel was being pulled in multiple directions and his patience was wearing thin.

"What's with the book club outside?"

"Putting together a hunt."

"One hunt?" asked Rose. "With that many people?"

Sam was next, not even letting Samuel answer. "You found him, didn't you?"

"Who?" asked Dean.

"He's got a lead on the Alpha Vamp."

They all looked to him sharply. The Alpha Vampire? The first one made, the strongest one who literally made the rest of its species?

"Do you?"

"Maybe," he answered. "Yeah."

"How'd you track him down?" Rose asked. "He's the Big Bad Vamp, wouldn't the others be running interference?"

Samuel loaded his bag with a machete and smirked. "We're good."

She openly rolled her eyes at the comment and Dean said,

"That's all we get?"

"When's the run?" asked Sam.

"Dawn."

His gaze narrowed. "And you didn't call me? Why?"

Samuel didn't answer right away but she saw his eyes flicker toward her and Dean. She huffed. Figures. Dean noticed it too.

"Because of me."

"And me," she chirped unenthusiastically.

"You don't trust us very much. Especially when it comes to big game like this."

"Not true," corrected Samuel.

"Kinda true," Rose added. "You've never cared that much for Dean or me."

Before Samuel could argue, Dean spoke up first.

"Great, then we're in."

"No offense, but—"

"So you don't trust us?"

"No, I just don't know you," he answered, picking his words carefully. "Not like I know Sam."

Rose's mouth form a firm line. Well that was hardly their fault. Dean had only just come back to the hunting world and she had been brand new when Samuel came around. Due to her lack of experience and equal lack of blood connection to the Winchester/Campbell line, she was kept at arm's length from any of their hunting cases.

"All right," agreed Dean. "You call the plays, one hundred percent. We're here to listen."

Samuel gave an amused chuckle, looking to the eldest Winchester.

"Since when?"

"Big Daddy Bloodsucker? I ain't gonna miss that," he grinned. "But this is your deal, okay? I get it. We'll follow your lead. We trust you."

Rose nodded firmly, playing along. No way in hell she trusted him, but she could act the part.

* * *

The convoy came to a halt just as the sun was coming up, right at dawn just like Samuel planned. Everyone was unloading the vehicles to gear up and double and triple check their ammo. They spent the night sharpening knives, axes, machetes, loading up salt rock shells and filling syringes with dead man's blood. Everything they would need to kill a vampire or at the very least slow them down long enough to take another swing. Whatever they could do to separate the vampire's head from their body.

"About a dozen vamps and the Alpha," announced Samuel to the hunting team. "We got one shot at this son of a bitch. Christian, take flank. The rest of you are with me and Sam. Dean, Rose, Gwen, hang back, sweep any stragglers we flush out."

She wasn't surprised to be perfectly honest, but it was better than being told to wait back at the hideout. Dean couldn't help but shuffle at the assignment.

"Problem, Dean?" called out Samuel.

"No, sir."

Gwen, on the other hand, was less than thrilled. "I'm in the rear with the rejects?"

Ouch.

"All right, let's go." At Samuel's order, the hunters marched toward the large estate home without another word. Sam brought up the rear so to whisper to them.

"Don't worry, it's fine."

"Nothing's fine. You're not fine," sighed Dean. "Go. Go."

He nodded and looked to her as well. She gave a small smile that she hoped was reassuring as he caught up to the group in a few long legged strides. She hoped everything would go well. If the Alpha really was there plus twelve regular vampires…it made her wish they brought more people.

It was quiet for a while as they paced around the vehicles, listening for any potential stray vampires. Gwen actually broke the silence first.

"Hey, um, sorry about the "reject" thing."

Rose gave a shrug, unoffended. "It's no big deal."

"I've been called worse," Dean added.

Gwen gave a relieved sigh. "I just…get sick of getting left behind. Probably because I remind him of his daughter or something."

Samuel's daughter was Mary Winchester. Rose stole a quick glance at Dean to gauge his reaction and he gave a fond sort of half-smile.

"Well, you do speak your mind."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Well, you should."

There was a distinct cracking sound in the woods and the machete was instantly in the Rose's hand, blue eyes watching the tree line intensely.

The sound of motion came from the left, just behind them and the vampire plowed into Gwen, knocking her clean off her feet. Rose was already moving before the hunter finished hitting the ground, her blade cutting through the air with her swing. She followed the motion through and was rewarded with the squelching sound of blood and the dull thunk of its head dropping to the ground.

Knees only slightly shaking, she heard Dean say,

"Damn, Red. That's was pretty fast."

"Thanks…" she said, forgetting that she had been holding her breath. Turning around, she offered Gwen her hand and she carefully accepted it, allowing herself to be pulled to her feet. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks," she answered.

The moment was cut short by the sudden sounds of gunfire. The hunters were fighting. Dean bolted first and Rose quickly followed. Screw Samuel's orders. Her loyalty was with the Winchesters and that was who she would follow.

Gwen's voice faded in the background. "We're supposed to wait here…!"

Gunshots continually sounded as they rushed toward the large home. They made to rush through the side iron gate only to find that it was locked. Rose gasped aloud at the sight of bodies littering the courtyard. Vampires, hunters, they were all intermingled. Some had heads, others didn't and blood was everywhere. Dean shook the gate again and went suddenly went still, his green eyes staring seemingly past what was in front of them.

"Dean?" she whispered carefully, grabbing his arm. Was this an effect from when he was turned into a vampire? Did she need to get him away from where the Alpha was?

He snapped out of his daze at her call and led the way again, like nothing had happened. She followed him closely as they wrapped around the house, only finding more and more dead bodies. There was a panicked sound of someone beating on the glass and they looked just in time to see one of the hunters being yanked back into the darkness, blood spraying the window in an arch a second later. Another one dead.

Before her stomach had time to catch up with the bloodbath there were standing in the middle of, there was the muddled voice of Samuel calling instructions and the two were running again. Keeping their footsteps light, they slowed down and carefully peered from around a shed. Dean held his arm up to keep her from leaning too far forward as they watched the strange scene unfold.

There was a tall figure being dragged away by hunters, wearing a black bag over its head to keep it from seeing where it was going. Its wrists were shackled being its back and one hunter was walking beside it, holding up a jar of blood, an IV of some sort connecting it to the creature. They wrestled him into the back of the van, the sound of the chains rattling.

The Alpha.

Her brow furrowed in confusion. If they were after the Alpha, why weren't they killing him? Wasn't that the point?

Dean pulled her back and they began their race back to their vehicles and where Gwen was waiting. No words were needed. They needed to get back before Samuel or the others realize that they left their post and saw what they were really doing with the Alpha.

They had barely walked up to Gwen when Samuel's voice sounded out.

"Everything okay here?"

Rose kept her mouth shut, focusing on calming her breathing. Damn they were fast. They looked to Gwen who answered,

"Just, uh, chopped up a runner. No big deal. How'd it go?"

"Rough. But one Alpha down," Samuel said with a perfectly straight face.

Dean watched him carefully. "Where is it? Wanna pay my last respects."

"Well, bring marshmallows. Already on the pyre," he said, getting into his truck.

Dean and Rose shared a look, both knowing full well that it wasn't true. Not saying anything, they got into the Impala where Sam was just slipping into the passenger's seat, the door creaking closed behind him.

The car ride was uncomfortably silent as they drove down the empty road. Rose didn't want to be the one to speak first and she figured Dean was giving his brother a chance to tell them first what was really going on, rather than the fact that they found out. If he didn't…that meant that Sam was lying to them too. Could they trust anything he said?

"Things go okay back there?" asked Dean.

"Fine."

"Nothing weird?"

Sam gave a noncommittal shrug in response.

Rose grabbed her seatbelt with a startled yelp as the tires squealed, the brakes locking as Dean pulled the car sharply over to the side of the road. He cut the engine and got out of the car, slamming his door shut. She and Sam quickly followed suite.

"We saw you walk that Alpha out the door, Sam," he snapped. "Now, call me crazy, but that seems weird."

Sam took a breath. "Oh."

"Oh," repeated Dean.

"You weren't supposed to know about that."

"We figured that much," Rose added quietly. "But we don't understand why it had to be a secret?"

"It's just something that Samuel's been doing," he explained. "Catching things, taking them somewhere, grilling them for info."

"Grill. Torture, right?" guessed Dean.

Sam didn't correct him.

"And not telling me, that was his idea?"

"No. It was mine."

"Why?"

"Honestly?" he said, "Because you'd mess it up. I didn't tell Rose either for the same reason."

She felt her face burn in embarrassment. Really? He thought she would mess it up? After all of the training, the researching, and the cases, she still wasn't….she still wasn't enough? He couldn't trust her?

"You shoot first, ask questions later," he told his brother, "and we needed to ask questions."

Dean was quiet for a moment, taking in what he said.

"You know, I don't care if you've got soullessness…or the freakin' mump. Man, you know better than this! Do you even want your soul back?"

"How does that have anything to do with—?"

"Have you been to the place where Samuel takes them?" he continued. "I mean, have you been in on these interrogations?"

"No, but I hear—"

"And what does he want, and why? I mean, did it ever occur to you that this is really shady?"

Sam didn't say anything as he processed all the questions. "He's our grandfather…"

"Yeah. Yeah, a guy who talks a great game," said Dean. "But you can't assume that family means the same thing to him as it does to us. He's not Dad."

When Sam didn't say anything, Dean scoffed,

"Wow. You don't even see it, do you?"

"What?"

"You've got no instinct," he said. "I mean, you are seriously messed up."

"Thanks," he returned sarcastically.

"I'm not kidding, man. It's a damn miracle that you haven't used Rose as bait" He stopped and took a breath, looking to his brother again.

"Nobody's forcing you to work with me. Okay? But if we do this, I drive the bus. I call the shots. And you tell me everything whether you think it's important or not, because trust me, you can't tell the difference. Or you know what? Go—go with Samuel. See how that goes. It's up to you."

* * *

Rose hadn't meant to doze off. She and Dean were waiting in the Impala as Sam left to go try to convince Samuel to let him in on the interrogations. The adrenaline had faded after the hunt and her body had fallen asleep at the first chance. The sleep was far from peaceful, like it always was due to the state of her soul's contract, but she was used to the nightmares of Hell. What she wasn't used to was the addition her mind was able to throw into the mix. On top of the horrors of the world of the damned, she was now hearing the screams of Sam Winchester.

She woke up with a jolt, barely able to keep herself from crying out. Her hairline was beaded with sweat and she was short of breath, her heart racing.

"Rose, you all right?"

It took her a second to gather her bearings, the screams still ringing in her ears, and for Dean's voice to register. He was looking back at her, his arm over the back of the front seats, and his expression was one of obvious concern.

"S…sorry…"

"Nothing to be sorry about," he assured her. "Are you all right?"

She nodded. "Yeah…Sorry, just, uh, just the usual nightmares. No big deal…"

"You sure?" He was still studying her pretty intensely and she nodded again, her breathing settling down.

"Yeah, it's the norm now," she told him. A startling thought came to mind and she stammered,

"D-did I…did I say anything?"

His brow furrowed in question. "What do you mean?"

"A-apparently, I talk in my sleep sometimes."

He gave a shrug.

"Nope. I didn't hear anything."

Relieved, she sank back into the seat, looking out the window. Her faint reflection looked back at her, all pale skin and red hair and she was immensely grateful that she hadn't said anything. Her hand came up to cover her mouth, still wanting to call out but she had to force the urge away.

 _Crowley._

She had wanted to call out Crowley's name. After the last time, when the nightmare was particularly bad, he had appeared supposedly due to her calling for him in her sleep. While confused, she was happy that someone was there with her. The worst part of waking up from a nightmare was the eerie silence that followed. Everything, every little tick or creak sounded too close, the darkness like a weight that was swallowing her whole. Simply existing was overstimulating.

But when Crowley was there, the darkness was shared, lightened even. When his hands were on her, she could ignore the rest of the night and its sounds and focus solely on him. She felt safe with him there. That he had stayed for such a long time that night made her incredibly grateful. For the first time, she managed to fall asleep again and if there were nightmares again she couldn't remember them. And that he had stayed with her, his hands on her waist, and she felt…she felt like _he_ needed _her_.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door creaked open and Sam was in the passenger seat once more. He came back.

"Hey," greeted Dean after a second.

Sam heard the hesitation. "You didn't think I'd come back."

"I figured, 60-40."

He nodded in agreement and pulled out his laptop. "So Samuel didn't take the bait. So I went with Plan B."

"Plan B?" asked Rose, leaning forward so to look over his shoulder.

"Fired up the GPS on one of his phone. Should be able to track him right to the Alpha."

"The old man won't notice?"

Rose shook her head. "Samuel's really terrible with technology."

"She's right. He thinks Velcro is big news," added Sam. The computer screen quickly changed, zooming in on the pin.

"There. Got him."

* * *

It didn't take long for them to find the abandoned warehouse. They hung back and watched Samuel and another hunter enter through a side door. After waiting a moment, they got out of the Impala and made their way to the door. The first thing she noticed was the large splash of blood across the door.

"Well, that's welcoming," she muttered. Sam swiped the blood with his fingers and examined it closer.

"It's dead man's blood."

"Smart," said Dean. "Lock the place down with vamp repellent."

Dean was quick as he picked the lock and they were all carefully entering the building. They were all armed with a variety of items but each of them carried a machete. On the off chance that other vampires found the place as they looked for their Alpha, it was the best weapon to have on hand.

Nothing was said as they walked further inside. Rose was between the brothers with Dean in the lead and Sam bringing up the rear. Dean gave a nod of his head and they followed his silent direction. They passed through multiple rooms quietly, all empty. The Campbells must be only using the space solely for the interrogation. In a weird way that was slightly reassuring. At least they didn't have some crazy monster torture factory set up in the big space. It was almost funny how that was a thought that came instantly to mind.

There was the creak of a door and they dove into the nearest room to hide. Boots could be heard moving down the hall they were previously standing in. The person came to a stop and stepped into the former office, looking around. Rose was pinned against the wall behind the filing cabinet with Sam, his arm pressing her into the wall as much as possible, and they could see Dean tucked into the empty space of a desk. All holding their breath, the person left the room, the footsteps fading.

Back into the hall, their sense of direction was made clear by Samuel's carrying voice.

"You're seeing now how this shapes up is entirely up to you."

There was a large sliding cargo door and they quickly took a place on either side. Despite all the upheaval with the status of Sam's soul, Rose still found herself taking her usual spot by his side. It was ingrained in her training, so she would deal with any consequences later. Dean was able to barely open the door, making a space just big enough for them to peer inside.

There was a large cage-type-contraption in the middle of the room and Samuel was standing in front of it, talking to the Alpha. The Alpha didn't look too bothered by is situation, looking at the hunter with an amused look.

"Where is it?" Samuel asked.

The Alpha was silent.

"Answer the question. Where is it? How do we find it?"

Nothing.

Samuel slammed his hand into some sort of button and the sound of surging electricity filled the room, zapping through the Alpha's restraint. They could see sparks flying from the metal bolts that were hammered into the Alpha's hands and feet. He didn't so much as flinch.

"Ouch. Stop. That hurts," he deadpanned.

Annoyed, Samuel powered off the machine and made to storm out of the room, but not before delivering one more threat.

"Now, this—this is Club Med compared to what we have planned for you."

"Oh." The Alpha still wasn't rising to the bait.

"I got all the time in the world."

"Well, that makes two of us."

He dropped a blade to the table and left the room entirely in frustration, the Alpha chuckling. After a moment, his voice sounded again.

"Are you three going to hide all night?"

They shared a look, for a moment wondering how he knew they were there. Rose forgot about their enhanced hearing and she tapped her chest to communicate to the boys.

 _Heartbeats._

"Come on out."

Well, they were already discovered. Dean carefully opened the door and Rose readjusted her grip on her machete, just in case. Slowly, they stepped into the room and cautiously walked toward the cage.

"How can I help you?"

Rose narrowed her gaze slightly in confusion. How could he help them? What was he playing at?

Dean spoke up. "We got some questions for you, Skippy. Since you're going nowhere fast."

He chuckled again. "Don't be so sure."

"Yeah?" asked Dean. He gestured to the variety of straps and wires keeping the vampire in place. "Locked down pretty tight. With all that dead blood rushing through your veins…not sure you got enough juice to fire up that psychic Bat-signal of yours."

"True. Not near enough juice for that, Dean."

The hunter's tone was cool. "Didn't realize we were on a first-name basis."

"Of course we are," he said. "After all, you were my child for a time."

Rose was taken aback by the information. For the short time that Dean was a vampire, the Alpha already knew who he was? Which led to the only conclusion that he knew _every_ vampire in creation.

"Dean, tell me, did you enjoy it?"

He stepped closer, raising his hand to the power button.

"I'm askin' the questions here, Fright Night."

The wires buzzed to life again and once again, he didn't flinch at the electricity. She followed Sam as they dared to step closer, despite the worry racking her body.

"When your kind first huddled around the fire…I was the thing in dark," he hissed as small tendrils of smoke issued from the metal poles. "Now you think you can hurt me?"

Dean shut off the power while Rose focused on his words. If he was alive since then, did that mean, not only was he the strongest vampire but maybe even the first one?

"I have all night. You do not," he reminded. "Anyway, I'm happy to tell you whatever you want to know."

"Why?" asked Rose, her voice in a half whisper.

"Why?" he repeated, turning his gaze to her. She swallowed thickly but maintained the contact, holding her head up high. There was no point in cowering, letting him truly know that she was very nervous to even be there. She was frustrated that her heart rate was picking up because she knew he could hear it.

"Because soon I'll be ankle deep in your blood…sucking the marrow from your bones."

Rose was more than relieved when Sam spoke up next.

"So you're really it," he said. "The first of your species."

"The very first."

"But if you're the first, who made you?"

"Well, we all have our mothers," the Alpha answered easily. "Even me."

"If she made you, doesn't that make her the Alpha?" Rose asked, her curiosity forcing her voice to work. "Or since you're the Alpha, the first, does that just make her like a giant monster mom instead? How can she make you without being like you first?"

He laughed again, the low throaty sound bouncing throughout the room. "Aren't you a quick one."

Dean was next. "What's with the big surge of vamps lately?"

"We're going war," he answered simply.

"Why? What's going on?" asked Sam. "Why did Samuel bring you here?"

He paused, looking from Sam to the girl.

"You smell cold. And you smell like fire as if you're burning."

There was an awkward pause, the three all glancing to each other. The Alpha came to his own conclusion.

"You have no soul." His gaze fell on Rose again. "Just as your soul is condemned."

His focus returned to Sam, his interest obvious.

"Do you feel how empty you are? What is it like to have no soul?"

"Answer my question," ordered Sam.

"You first."

"You're the one in the cage."

He sighed. "The thing about souls, if you've got one, of course, is they're predictable. You die, you go up or down. Where do my kind go?"

"Enough with the sermon, freak," snapped Dean.

"I'm trying to answer the question," he reprimanded. "Now, when we freaks die, where do we go? Not heaven, not hell, so?"

Rose came to the conclusion first. There was only one other option.

"Purgatory."

His answering smirk was almost approving. "Someone's been reading their Dante."

"Purgatory? Purgatory's real?" asked Dean, looking to Rose since she had answered. She gave a sort of shrug.

"From what I remember in class, they described it as a place where undecided souls go and that prayers could get them from there to their final destination."

"Oh, stupid cattle," laughed the Alpha. "Your human judgement is instant. Purgatory is filled with the soul of every hungry thing like me that ever walked this earth. Now, _where_ is it? That is the mystery. And _that_ is what your kind-hearted granddaddy is trying to beat out of me."

"Samuel brought you here to find out where Purgatory is?" asked Sam.

Rose was confused. "Why would he care? If it's where monsters go when they die, then great, keep it that way. Better there than here."

"I keep telling him, "How would I know such a thing?" but he refuses to untie me."

"You know exactly where it is," said Sam with a smirk. "Why does Samuel care about any of this?"

"He doesn't care." His eyes flickered to Dean, his own smile forming. "He does as he is told."

Another pause as they all looked to each other. Who was ordering Samuel around?

"Well, if the old man's Kermit, whose hand's up his ass?" asked Dean.

There was an answering sound of a gun cocking and they turned around to see Samuel, Christian, and another hunter standing with their guns loaded.

"Evening, guys," greeted Samuel.

They were taken into the hall where they were promptly stripped of their weapons, the clattering of knives, machetes, and guns making a small pile on the ground. Rose flinched as Christian gave her rear an extra pat down, and she wished for nothing more than her knife to be in her hand. Since that wasn't the case and a gun was trained on them, she had to settle for glaring.

"You know, I have seen some stupid in my time, but you take the crown," lectured Dean, looking at Samuel. "Putting Jaws in a fishbowl? How do you think that's gonna end? I don't know what kind of game you're runnin'—"

"You think I'm doing this for kicks?" asked Samuel.

"I think you got the rest of these feebs convinced you're John Wayne," he argued. "So whatever you're doing, whatever you're hiding…it's gonna put you and everyone around you in the ground."

Samuel moved forward and Dean was quick to meet him, wrestling the gun to the ground. Sam went for Christian, and Rose dove for their weapons on the ground, grabbing the gun, somersaulting to taking position on one knee, barrel pointed at Samuel, all in one motion.

There was another gun cocking to her right and she slowly turned her head to see Gwen standing with her gun pointed directly at her. Even if she tried to change targets, the Campbell would still have the advantage and be faster to pull the trigger.

"Hi," she chirped. Rose slowly lowered her gun to the ground, keeping her hands where they could be seen.

"Gwen," named Dean. "And I thought we had something special."

Before anything else could be said, there was a sudden scream from the room that was holding the Alpha in his cage. That wasn't good.

"Grab your stuff," ordered Samuel.

Scrambling to pick up their guns and blades, they were right behind the others as they barged into the room. The sight was about how the expected. The cage was ripped open, the hunter that was supposed to guard him was dead on the floor, and it looked like the vat of dead man's was slashed, the dark liquid pooling uselessly onto the floor.

"How much dead man's blood have we got left?" asked Samuel.

Christian pulled out two capped syringes from his jacket. Only two to face the Alpha vampire. It was a shot in the dark and even that was a stretch.

"How long 'til the Alpha's one hundred percent?" Dean asked.

"Hour, maybe less," said Samuel. "We need to get him back in the cage."

"No."

"What do you mean, no?" asked Samuel, stepping closer.

"I don't know what your big plan was," said Dean, "but playing catch is not on the table—"

"Dean—"

"Take the thing's head off or it kills us all. You know that."

Samuel looked frustrated but he didn't argue.

"Okay. We split up, clear every room," ordered Dean. "You get a shot, you take it. It's not gonna kill him but the dude will move a lot slower without any kneecaps. And if we make it through this, you, me, and Sam are having one hell of a family meeting."

Rose paired with Sam and they somehow ended up searching with Christian and Samuel as well. While she didn't like them, this case was an exception since they were facing an Alpha. Their footsteps were soft as they went from room to room. Nothing was happening, no sudden movements, and no calls from Gwen and Dean. While it was a good thing, it also meant that the Alpha was still loose.

Somehow they made their way back to the main room and Sam and Samuel gestured they would take the right side while she and Christian guarded the center to look out for them. When they circled back around, still nothing had happened. Christian broke the silence.

"You think he ran out?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the Alpha was upon them. He was bigger than Rose could've gauged from when he was sitting in the cage, and his large hands were on either side of Christian's head and he gave a sharp twist. Everything was happening quickly as she swung her blade at his throat and he threw her back with one hand, flinching as Samuel's shot struck his midsection.

Her head was ringing from crashing into the metal table and she had to actively try to focus her vision on what was happening. Samuel was thrown to the opposite side, Christian was lying still on the ground with his neck at a distorted angle. She saw Sam take a swing but the Alpha forced him to drop the machete, the blade skidding further away out of reach as he slammed him against a support pillar.

"The boy with no soul. I've got big plans for you, you and the damned girl," he hissed. "It's amazing how that pesky little soul gets in the way. But not for you. _You_ will be the perfect animal—"

With the Alpha so involved in his rant as he strangled Sam, he didn't seem to be paying anyone else any attention. Rose had caught sight of the fallen syringes, abandoned when Christian fell, a very risky idea came to mind and she didn't bother to think it through. There wasn't time.

Scooping up the syringes of dead man's blood, she popped off the caps and leapt forward. The tips of the needles came down hard, piercing the back of his neck on either side of his spine and she pushed the plungers down, sending the dark, thick liquid into his system.

With an unholy scream, the Alpha spun around to face her with his fangs extended. Slightly off balance, she stumbled back but he was already lunging for her, his fingers wrapping around her throat as they crashed to the floor.

"Let's see what kind of twisted beast you become, shall we?" he snarled. He opened his mouth wide, the needle sharp teeth gleaming.

* * *

He didn't usually hover over his employees as they worked, that was a sign of poor management. If he didn't believe they could do the job then he wouldn't have hired them in the first place. The only time he made an exception to the rule was when they were bringing in the Alphas for questioning, but even then he didn't reveal himself to his staff.

When word got to him that they were bringing in the Alpha vampire, Crowley knew he had to stand by and observe. The original vampire was a tricky fellow and far out of the Campbell's league.

It was more for show, to have Samuel ask the questions to the monsters they captured. The creatures at their paygrade didn't crack under some hunter torture tactics. That was his part of the job, to make them break and spill every little secret they had. It was as fun as it was infuriating. He enjoyed figuring out new ways to glean information from monsters, willingly or otherwise. Although he did hate the Alpha's resistance that made the new efforts necessary, but it was all a part of the job.

While the Campbell's contraption was rudimentary at best, it was doing the job of containing the vampire. For the moment. He watched from the sidelines as Samuel tried to get information from him, tucked away at the top of a staircase, invisible to all eyes. He mentally sighed at the older hunter's poor form. Really? All bark and no real bite? He needed to step up his torture game. Then again, hunters were mostly good for killing monsters, not questioning them.

He was debating about popping down and having a chat with the Alpha himself when the Alpha called out for someone to reveal themselves. He had a guess to who else was present. Reaching out with his awareness, he found the usual glow of his contracted soul. Rosette. Which meant the Winchester boys were with her as well.

His gaze lingered on her form as she walked into the room with the brothers. She was dressed similar to the hunters with the denim, the layering of shirts with flannel and a jacket on top of it all. Her red hair was still twisted into its usual bun, the loose strands already slipping free and brushing her cheeks. The last time he saw her, she was wearing an entirely different ensemble. It was still a distinct memory that hovered at the forefront of his mind and he found himself looking back on it during his free moments.

It was…certainly a strange moment they shared that night. As he recalled, he had just finished ripping Hell apart and was looking for a reprieve, a moment to think and clear his head. Then he found himself in her room. He didn't even question it. Soon, she was awake and they were sitting together on her small bed. He even healed her leg which he wasn't under any obligation to do so. She may be his contract but her physical status wasn't of any concern to him, so why had he gone through with it?

The soft feeling of her skin beneath his fingertips was an interesting sensation. It wasn't his first time with physical touch, but it was the first time it felt so…magnetic, so to speak. He had even insisted on healing her back and once again, it was like there was a pull to her. His hands curled so easily at her body's natural curves, drawing her closer. Perhaps it was a momentary lapse in judgement, hours passing as they simply remained together while he rested his forehead against her shoulder. No words were said between them, there was simply an unspoken understanding. When he left he did feel more clear-headed than when he arrived, but there was also a deep, dull ache that wasn't there before. Or was it? He couldn't quite recall and that was equally unnerving.

The three humans were holding their own when it came to speaking with the Alpha. He felt a certain surge of pride as Rosette picked up on the vampire's phrasing and asked more pointed questions in return. If they had a little more time, she probably could've gotten some solid information. Of course, Samuel had to come back on the scene and they took the three away.

A little curious as to how their interaction would unravel, he teleported to the hall to observe. The three were being patted down for any and all of their weapons. There was a sharp spark of annoyed indignation as the demon possessing Christian copped a feel checking Rosette's back pockets for any hidden items. It was unprofessional for anyone on his staff to behave so crudely. He was pleased to see his contract give a particularly vicious glare in response.

When Dean dared to charge Samuel, the demon was surprised to see that Rosette sprang into action as well. Her motion was smooth as she rolled with the jump, armed and aiming when she was upright on her knees. He raised an interested brow. She was graceful before, but it looked like all her training with the Winchesters was paying off. There was a certain fluidity to her movements, he observed.

The encounter was cut short when a scream rang out and he rolled his eyes. Of course, one of the other hunters had gotten themselves killed. Teleporting back to the main room, he let out a disappointed sigh at the sight of the broken cage and lack of Alpha. He was still weak, not to mention rightfully pissed off, so the vampire would hide until he regained some of his strength before fighting back. The hunters came together and quickly worked together, Dean Winchester taking point and dividing up the tasks, making sure everyone was paired up.

As valiant as their efforts were, it seemed to be for naught as the first team returned to the main room. Rosette and Christian were watching the center but they didn't hear the Alpha appear behind them. Crowley felt an unreasonable urge to zap the girl away but he held himself back, more intent on watching the exchange. The Alpha snapped Christian's neck, and while Rosette attacked at nearly the same time, the supernatural speed won out and she was thrown bodily across the room.

The Alpha threw Samuel aside and turned his attention to Sam, grabbing him by the neck and pinning him to a pillar. While he was focusing on the Winchester, the demon saw Rosette start to move and he saw her blue eyes light up at the sight of the syringes chock full of dead man's blood. He felt a thrill of excitement as he watched her dive for the syringes, and in the same motion, remove the cap, leap forward, and drive the needles into the vampire's neck, plunging the crippling blood into his system. When the Alpha whirled around and lunged at her, the two crashing onto the floor, and showed his fangs, that was when Crowley snapped his fingers and his demons appeared on the scene, grabbing the vampire and leaving without so much as word. His team was efficient if nothing else.

He gave a slow clap as he allowed himself to become visible, garnering all of their attention. He did pay special notice that Rosette was able to push herself upright, catching her breath. She looked up at him and again, there was that electricity of her paying attention to him.

"Well, that was dramatic."

"Crowley," identified Sam.

Rosette seemed surprised as well, her voice considerably softer but his sharp ears caught the breathlessness of how she said his name. "Crowley…"

"Hello, boys. Darling," he greeted as he made his way down the stairs. "What an unexpected treat."

"Bring Christian back now!" demanded Samuel, storming forward.

He raised a brow in mock concern. "I'm sorry?"

"My nephew. The one you just crammed a demon into!"

"Oh, no, I had him possessed ages ago," he explained, offhandedly. In the back of his mind he wondered why Rosette never said anything about his employee to anyone.

"Samuel, really," he tutted. "I keep an eye on my investments."

It didn't go unnoticed that Rosette shuffled somewhat at his word choice.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa," interrupted Dean. "You two know each other?"

"Not in the biblical sense," he answered. "More of a business relationship, I'd say."

There was that awkward pause again as the humans figured out the situation, Sam being the first to speak up.

"You're Crowley's bitch."

While the term was a bit crude, he couldn't help but enjoy the implications. Yes, he had Samuel Campbell right under his thumb.

"I-it's not what you think—"

"It's precisely what you think," Crowley corrected, enjoying the obvious discomfort the older hunter was in. Plus, he wasn't one for lying outright.

"That Alpha he's caught me is getting him a gold star," he told the class.

"Since when do you give a crap about vampires?" asked Dean.

He slowly made his way over, his eyes traveling over is contract before resting the eldest and loudest Winchester.

"Since, uh, what's today? Friday?" he paused, pretending to think. "Since, let's see, mind your business."

He continued to move forward, stilling when Rosette spoke up, just barely beating Sam to the punch.

"Crowley, why're you looking for Purgatory?"

"So you heard about that?" he asked, as if he hadn't been watching them the whole time. She nodded, her expression worried. He wondered if she was worried for him or because of the existence of Purgatory. Those blue eyes were intensely focused on him and he sighed, defaulting the well-rehearsed cover story. He didn't want Castiel getting his feathers in a knot.

"Well, darling, it's all about location, location, location," he told her. "I'm a developer. Purgatory is vast, underutilized and Hell-adjacent, and I want it."

Dean stepped in. "What for?"

"Best shut your gob," he scolded. "Employees don't question management."

"We ain't your employees."

"Of course you are," he smirked. "Have been for quite some time now, thanks to gramps."

They all turned to look at the hunter in incredulous confusion.

"I don't keep Captain Chromedome around for his wit, do I?" he continued. "Samuel knows things. More than any of you, actually. Walking encyclopedia of the creepy and crawly. And I know you two are so hung up on family loyalty nonsense…he said jump, you'd get froggy."

"Yeah, well, game's over," said Dean. As if his word meant anything.

"Yeah, well, afraid not," he mocked. "Not if you want to see Sam's soul ever again."

A pause.

"You're bluffing," called out Sam. He kept his face perfectly collected. The hunter was more dangerous than usual without his soul. Perceptive too.

"Tell them, Samuel."

Samuel hesitated before confessing. "He pulled us both back, me and Sam."

"What? You knew?" demanded Sam.

"No. It takes big-time mojo to pull that off," argued Dean. "You're a punk-ass crossroads demon."

Rosette was still watching him carefully, her hand cradling her side after the Alpha's hit. Her voice was still soft, perhaps due to the injury, her breathing shallow. A jostled rib, maybe?

"No…You're the King of Hell now…It makes sense for that to include a power raise, so to speak…"

He smirked, loving the sound of his new title especially when said with her voice.

"Right you are, darling. Believe me, I've got the mojo," he confirmed. "I snap my fingers, Sam gets his soul back. Or, you can be you…and I shove Sam right back in the hole."

He gave the tallest hunter an interested look. "Can't imagine what it's like in there. And I can imagine _so_ many things."

When no one said anything else, he decided to wrap things up. He was a King and had things to do, like torture his newly acquired Alpha.

"So, we clear? Me Charlie, you angels," he said. "Job's simple enough. Bring me creatures. Aim high on the food chain, please. Everybody wins."

He snapped his fingers, resetting and mending Rosette's rib. She gasped at the sudden change and looked to him quickly in realization. It was becoming more and more tempting to simply steal her away and make her his assistant. But his contract was binding and he stood by his rules.

"It's been a pleasure. See you soon."

Where there were rules, there were loopholes.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Another update! Alpha stuff, Sam soul status revealed, learning about Purgatory, and some Crowley insights, all sorts of stuff! Also the beginning of some interesting thoughts from Rose, guilt being a big factor. I'm so excited to get started on the next chapter, there will be a lot of stuff going on, so it's going to be a big one! All sorts of Crowley stuff in that one too (can't wait!)!**

 **Next time: Caged Heat!**

 **I hope you enjoyed! Your thoughts would be love as always!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Exhausted didn't even begin to cover how she was feeling.

They were working case after case, taking any call that came their way. It turned out it wasn't only vampires with the recruitment plan. One of their last cases involved a pack of skinwalkers, and they learned that they were turning more people and planting them in families. Then, when the psychic signal was given, they would turn on them and their numbers would triple maybe even quadruple overnight. An instant army.

She was riding alongside the brothers full time instead of going back to Bobby's in between the cases. Dean distrust for Sam was rising every day and she was brought in to help to keep an eye on him, she supposed. It was a little annoying to be seen as a kind of babysitter, instead of actual help. Perhaps it slipped Dean's mind that she did _work_ with Sam over the past year. She was capable of hunting with them and not just as some tagalong.

Then there was the case in Elwood, Indiana and she had just about lost her temper completely. What an exhausting case. They were there to work because of the four missing persons that occurred over such a short time, but it was a little difficult to focus on the facts when everyone in the town seemed to be obsessed with aliens, to the point she wondered if they had somehow stumbled onto an X-Files set. They had split up to search, her being paired with Sam to tail Mr. Brennan the watch maker, and Dean to go investigate the crop circles. She didn't know if it was all the alien talk but Sam was more straightforward than usual. Telling old ladies that they're sniffing glue and glitter, accusing the watch maker of knowing more about his lost son, both of which were most likely true but he said those things to their face. If the height difference wasn't so comical between them, she would've thrown her hand over his mouth to try and stop the flow of insults.

On top of that, they were tailing Mr. Brennan at the bar when Dean called and suddenly went into a panic, raving about a UFO. With Sam's smartass remarks, she didn't grab the phone in time before the line went quiet. They tracked his phone and found it abandoned in the crop circle, his brother nowhere in sight. With no other lead to go off from, they made their way to the campsite where the most dedicated UFO supporters were hanging out. Sam made short work of the "expert" to the point where she was worried that that older man was going to cry. As they made their way out, one girl volunteered to help them look for Dean. Rose found this unhelpful, since they were going to being hunting something supernatural but Sam had agreed.

She had gone out to the car to rummage around for more paperwork, in hope that it would help, and when she made her way back to the motel room she was thrilled to see Dean standing in the doorway. Before she could express her relief that he was safe, she moved closer and saw what he was staring at.

Sam was in bed with the UFO chick from the campsite, both already naked and under the covers. They were working into the early morning, researching everything possible and the second she was gone, they jump each other? She couldn't help but bite his head off.

" _Are you freakin' kidding me?! Dammit, Sam, I was only gone for five minutes!"_

She was tired, she was frustrated, and all around aggravated. Here she was, trying to do her best to figure out a way to get Dean back from the aliens or whatever monster they were hunting, and Sam was just doing whatever the hell he wanted.

At least they came across some sort of a break in the case the next day or so. As it turned out, it wasn't UFO and aliens, but fairies and magic instead. They had to make a visit to the crazy crystal lady and try to get as much fairy info as they could. She would wager that it looked pretty comical, all three of them crammed together on the same bench on one side of the table seeing as no one wanted to sit next the fairy guru herself. Despite her through-the-roof strangeness, they did learn a few things about the creatures.

They didn't like iron, the dark ones didn't like silver, they were apparently big fans of cream, and they tended to abduct first-born sons, which explained why Dean was kidnapped and not her, as a first-born herself. There was also the interesting fact that no matter how powerful the fairy, they would have to stop and count each grain of spilled salt and sugar.

That fact was especially helpful later that night when they were back in Mr. Brennan's watch making shop. Rose, Sam, and the owner were all on the same team and looking for the spell book to reverse the fairy's contract, specifically a leprechaun. Most of the fairies were out like a light, drunk on the cream Mr. Brennan provided. He was partially through the spell when there was a dull crunching sound and the tip of a blade protruded from his chest.

He talked a good game, the leprechaun. He even offered both of them a deal. Volunteering to use his magic to get Sam's soul back and also to break her contract with Crowley. When the offer was made, she felt her heart give a hard beat in response. Naturally, they both turned him down. There was no way that his "deal" wasn't going to result in their death and not to mention the death of many since the fairies were more like a virus, spreading everywhere as fast as they could and taking what they wanted.

When Sam fired the first iron round shot, they were in for a fight. Despite looking like an older man, the leprechaun was quick and strong. The silver knife burned him, the iron rounds annoyed him, and he was unbelievably fast with his cane that was finished with an incredibly sharp point. He was able to fight both of them fairly well, vanishing from sight and reappearing exactly in their blind spots, alternating between using the blunt and the sharp end of his walking stick. When the blade caught her back a second time, she dropped to the ground, being sure to land near the fallen shot gun. It didn't take long for her to grab a shell and a knife, calling out to the leprechaun as he struck Sam across the face.

" _Hey, Lucky Charms—count this for me, would ya?"_

Against his own will, the fairy had to start counting each individual grain, giving Sam enough time to find the spell and finish the incantation, banishing him and all the others back to whatever dimension they came from. Her newfound scars served as a firm reminder to never trust any kind of fairy, the identical cuts down the length of her back between her shoulder blades made for an agonizingly long night of being stitched up.

* * *

"I told you, I don't know anything about—"

The metal baseball bat struck the side of his head before he could finish, causing a ringing sound to fill the room as well as a distinct crunch. Part of the left cheekbone. He spit out a glob of blood and rotated his jaw, surprised to find it still in place.

"Sorry, but your exceptional good looks aren't going to buy you any mercy. I suggest you talk."

Crowley made his way to his table that was decorated in a variety of instruments, some sharp, some jagged, and others simply creative. He looked back at the Alpha that was chained up in his laboratory and currently shifted to look like the King himself. Well, they did say mimicry was the highest form of flattery. He had removed his suit jacket and coat, rolled up his sleeves, and donned the white apron. He knew that torture was likely to get messy and he didn't want to ruin his clothes. He wasn't some animal.

"What should we use next? Speculum?" he asked, twirling the silver instrument. "Something more exotic?"

"Look, it's Purgatory," huffed the Alpha. "All I know is I go there when I die. It's not like I can draw you a map."

Bingo.

"I happen to know that you can."

"You're wrong."

"My sources are unimpeachable. You're the father of your entire species. You're really not pulling off this dumb-blonde act," he said, picking up the dark colored blade, rainbow fractals bouncing in the light. "I hope you appreciate just how much effort I've gone to in order to find something that can actually hurt you. My tinkering has cost several lesser shifters their lives."

He held up the blade for the Alpha to see.

"Iridium. Rarer than Hell."

The Alpha moved a little in his seat at the sight of the blade, a small motion that the demon took pleasure in. Good, finally some discomfort was showing.

"It would've been cheaper to drop a castle on you. But I think we can all agree, worth it." He stepped closer, twirling the blade deftly between his fingers. "So, you start talking…or I start chopping off all the bits that stick out."

"You go ahead, mate. See if that makes me—"

He wasn't allowed to finish as Crowley drove the blade deep into his shoulder, causing to shout out in pain. Ripping the blade free, he tossed in back onto his table and faced the Alpha again.

"What was that?" he asked, bringing his hand to his ear as he leaned in. "Purgatory's where?"

The Alpha spat a mouthful of blood in his face in response.

"What _is_ it with you animals?" he snapped, rubbing the blood away from his mouth with his sleeve. He snatched the white radio from the table.

"Did I tell you? This prison has a nursery." Flipping the switch, the sound of babies crying came over the speaker. "All yours. I know how much you care about them. You spent months gathering them to your bosom. Not so cocky now, are we?"

The Alpha didn't answer, staring at the radio where the sound of his children crying was playing for him to hear.

"Finding Purgatory's important to me," reiterated Crowley. "You have five seconds to tell me where it is. After that, I'll fillet them in front of you, toss their spines in your lap. Four, three, two—"

"Kill them all. We'll make more."

Frustration blazing, he slammed the radio down and picked up the machete, swinging it around at full force.

There was the familiar squelching sound as the head slowly peeled away from the rest of its body, falling to the ground.

"Guess I kinda lost my head…"

He threw the weapon down and growled. He needed to calm down, there were only so many Alphas available to him. It wasn't good strategy to cut off their heads every time they got mouthy with him. Then nothing would get done.

A break. That was what he needed.

* * *

 _Everybody's looking for love, oh, oh. Ain't that the reason you're at this club, oh, oh. You ain't gonna find it dancing with him, no, no. I got a better solution for you girl, oh, oh. Just leave with me now, say the word and we'll go. I'll be your teacher, I'll show you the ropes. You'll see a side of love you've never known. I can see it going down, going down_ …

The radio softly played in the dingy hideaway. To be honest, she was surprised the run down radio was able to pick up any station, let alone something that played the current hits. She had been pacing, going slightly stir crazy, so she decided to be productive and made the quick walk to the local grocery and started to put together a small, but presentable meal.

She had been left at the base so to go over their notes with Bobby via phone call, which did take most of the morning while the boys went after the Rugaru boss. They went over any other potential Alpha leads as well as both of their work on trying to figure out a way to get Sam's soul out of the cage. Unfortunately that wasn't turning up much either. Though she was sure to fill the hunter in on how Sam was doing, and how Dean was dealing with his altered brother.

"And what about you, kid? How're you doin'? This is your longest stint out there with cases and work."

"I'm good," she had told him. "A little tired, but it's no big deal. Just trying to keep up with them, y'know."

It wasn't an outright lie, she was tired. She just didn't tell him that her nightmares were steadily worsening. Ever since they learned about the state of Sam's soul, her mind had decided to add that to her usual nightmares. Visions of Sam being tortured, his screams ringing in her ears, begging, crying out for help. It woke her up viciously and more than once she had to empty her stomach from it. She couldn't stand it, the helplessness, the feeling like she betrayed him because she had promised—she had promised that she would get him out. When her soul was dragged to Hell she would get him out, that was what she told him.

Instead, she was topside and he was trapped. She was trying to do her best but it didn't seem to be enough. Not to mention, it was hard to stay on task on saving Sam when Sam's body was with them, running on soulless autopilot. On top of everything else, Soulless Sam had told her and Dean outright that he didn't care about them during the skinwalker case. Not one bit. It didn't matter to him if they lived or died.

She didn't matter. It was one thing for her to think that herself but to hear it out loud…it drove the point home.

What was the point of training her to be a hunter, if he didn't care? Was it just so he could have an option to use someone as bait? A human shield? But he had saved her before, plenty of times, so why then? To keep up the appearance that he was concerned?

That seemed to hurt worse, to pretend that he cared about her.

 _Some dudes know all the right things to say, oh. When it comes down to it, it's all just game, so.  
Instead of talking let me demonstrate, yeah. Get down to business and skip foreplay, ay. Just leave with me now, say the word and we'll go. I'll be your teacher, I'll show you the ropes. You'll see a side of love you've never known…_

The lyrics dully registered as she stirred the pot. Then there was the fact that she kept getting pushed to the side during the cases. She was always paired with Sam or left at the motel room to do research, and while that wasn't a bad thing, she enjoyed looking up lore, but she felt like they didn't trust her to do anything on her own besides paperwork. Like she was a burden.

"Hello, darling."

Startled by the sudden voice, she whirled around with the wooden spoon tightly in hand, snapping her arm back to strike the intruder. The motion was brought to an abrupt halt when they grabbed her wrist, stilling her assault.

"Always armed with kitchen cutlery, aren't you?"

Her eyes were wide with surprise as she found herself looking at Crowley. He looked at ease with one hand holding her wrist and the other coolly in his pocket. She noticed that he wasn't wearing his suit jacket or overcoat. In fact, he looked quite casual and she had no idea as to why her cheeks felt fever warm. She had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed that the room was suddenly warmer due to his arrival.

"I wouldn't consider a wooden spoon cutlery," she teased lightly when she found her words. "Blunt object maybe."

"Was that your plan? To bludgeon me with a spoon?"

"It may have been a part of said plan, yes."

He gave an amused smirk and she felt her mood lighten considerably. At least she could make someone laugh. He was still holding onto her wrist, she noticed, but she didn't comment, enjoying the warmth of his touch.

"So…um, what brings you by?"

He raised a brow at her question. "I need a reason?"

"W-well, no…"

"Good."

Her blush deepened at his word choice and she looked up directly at him. Hazel eyes were looking right back at her and once again she felt a certain…intensity when he was near. Just like last time, she was under the impression that while he was outwardly collected, there was something more lingering beneath the surface.

"Are you okay?"

There was a slight twitch near his eye, a small clue that she had hit the mark.

"Better now," he answered her. "I was losing my cool, I'm afraid. Needed a moment to collect myself."

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized, "but you're welcomed to hang out here until the boys get back. I can't say they'd be too thrilled to see you."

"No, I suppose not," he agreed. He looked over her shoulder and she remembered that she had a pot on the stove, turning so to stir it again.

"So why aren't you out playing with the other kids?" he asked, looking around at the run down establishment and grimaced. What a dump. "I see no appeal in hanging around here."

"I'm…I'm holding down the fort today," she explained slowly. "I've been on the phone with Bobby, going over research and—"

"Playing house essentially."

She sighed softly. "Yeah. Basically."

Crowley continued to examine the run-down home, personally offended by the filth. There were spots were bricks were missing, the support pillar was stripped of its panels and barely standing with its bare bones. The curtains on the window were thin and ragged, there was a single bed that looked positively infested and a threadbare couch that was missing one wooden leg. It was a dump, a shack. It was as if he was back on the run from Lucifer again. Absolutely disgusting. And the fact that she was staying here—

"Hey Crowley…"

"Yes, darling?" he answered, focusing on the only bright thing in the room. Her red hair was in a ponytail today, the length hanging down her back with curls and waves.

"About Sam's soul…"

Ah, yes. The cover up story, he reminded himself. It was such a pain that he had to tell her the same cock-and-bull as the Winchesters, but if she knew the truth she would tell them as well. It was her nature to be honest and forthcoming. It was one of the many reasons he liked her. She would never lie to him outright.

"As I told Squirrel, bring me Alphas and I'll—"

"What if I went and got it?"

Silence.

"Dearheart, I'm afraid you've forgotten that you're human," he reminded her, stepping closer. What had brought this on? "You can't go traipsing into Hell."

"What if…" Her back was still to him and he could see that she wasn't stirring the pot anymore, her hands still. "What if…you collect my deal and then I get him out of the cage."

Crowley didn't say anything as he studied her form intensely, taking in her words. She was offering for him to take her soul, in order to try and save Sam Winchester's, which was a fruitless endeavor, but she was offering it to him nonetheless. There was a large part of him that wanted to say yes and agree to her terms. Imagining the feeling of her soul melding with his power gave an adrenaline like rush through his veins at the thought. It was a long time coming, more than ten years now. He was familiar with every aspect of her due to their multiple interactions, their yearly meetings, and then his more frequent visits since she partnered up with the Hardy Boys. He knew her soul better than any of his other deals and could practically taste the power she would provide. Although he was the King of Hell and had the souls of the underworld at his beck and call, hers would be one of his most prized.

A smaller part of him argued against his initial reaction. If he collected her soul now, it would be years until she finished the process of becoming a demon, decades even. It took time for a human to be broken down completely and then rebuilt as a demon. The time spent in the Pit was important because they needed to strip away what made them human and start from scratch. The time on the rack would take away every possible inch of her that made her Rosette Herondale. That girl would be gone. Lost to the carnage of Hell.

"Th-that way everyone wins…" she continued when he didn't answer. "You get my soul, Dean gets Sam back, and everything…everything goes back to the way things should be…Wouldn't that…wouldn't that be better?"

"As pure as your intentions are, your time of death isn't up to you," countered Crowley. He cursed the miniscule waver in his voice. Hopefully it wasn't noticeable.

Moving closer, he reached out and turned her around with a flicker of strength. Gasping out of surprise, she put her hands out to steady herself, one on his arm and the other braced against his stomach. Her lower back was against the counter, forbidding her from moving away as he continued to close the distance, his hand gripping her waist firmly. He felt strangely exposed without the usual layers of his jackets but it was invigorating as he could feel her hand pressing against him. The confusion was strangely exciting as he looked down at her, their bodies nearly flush together. A pink blush was beginning to color her cheeks, recovering from being so pale a moment prior.

"I don't want to hear this nonsense again, do you understand me?" he asked, his voice soft yet almost a growl. He was surprising himself with his intensity but he let the words continue. "If you try to throw your life away, and I don't care if it's for some noble cause, I _will_ resurrect you. As many times as it takes for you to get the message."

"B…but isn't this…what you want?" she whispered weakly, her blue eyes becoming glassy with unshed tears. He wondered why she was feeling so upset, such an emotional upheaval. Was there something more going on with the boys and their hunts? There was a flash of fury. Did they suggest she die to retrieve Sam's bloody soul?

"Y-you'd get my soul—"

" _You_ are my contract. You in your entirety. Your soul is merely a piece of that," he corrected her sternly. Their faces were closer than before, he could even see the pinprick tears clinging to her pale lashes. Her touch felt like fire, unlike the ones in Hell, and he embraced the sensation wholeheartedly.

"Do I make myself clear?"

"C-crystal…."

She gave a small nod, not breaking their gaze. The pulling sensation must have been noticeable to her as well as she was leaning in closer to him. Her hand was wrapping around to his back, the other curving around his upper arm. Their bodies were touching now, his arm secured around her waist, his other hand resting against the edge of the counter so to brace them both.

There it was again, that undeniable magnetism. Professionalism be damned, he was vaguely aware of thinking as he leaned in closer, allowing himself to fold completely into her arms. Their lips had only scarcely brushed when the front door was thrown open.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself back in his laboratory.

Rose gasped aloud as the brothers came marching into the shack and she leaned against the counter for support, suddenly alone. Crowley had teleported away at their arrival and she found herself frustrated that their entrance couldn't wait one more minute.

"No, man, screw it. I'm done," barked Dean.

"Calm down."

"We've been going on these runs and it's not getting us anywhere."

"Dean—"

"The only thing that's really changed is now I need a daily rape shower."

Another argument, she recognized as she gathered her bearings and walked into the main room.

Sam sighed, annoyed as well. "Okay, you're right. Let's go with Plan B. Oh yeah, we don't have one. So 'til we do, sorry, dude, stock up on soap on a rope."

"I'm guessin' the exchange went well?" spoke up Rose, hoping to break some of the tension.

"Hey, Red," greeted Dean with a nod. "Yeah, turned over the Rugaru to Crowley's demon extras. No sign of the king himself though."

Sam shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to the side.

"If you wanna get my soul back, that's what we gotta do, okay?" he added. "No matter how much it sucks."

The girl couldn't help but frown slightly at his phrasing. If _they_ wanted to get his soul back. He didn't include himself in their efforts, not really. They were driving all over the country searching for monsters that could get them in Crowley's good graces so he could spring his soul from the cage. But the Sam that was in front of them…he didn't care. He was perfectly content to continue existing as he was, with no sleep and no feelings of his own.

"Yeah…You even want it back?" asked Dean. Rose looked to him quickly. He caught the wording as well, but they didn't need to go picking a fight, again.

Sam's face was impassive as he answered tersely. "I'm working for Crowley, aren't I?"

"Yeah, well, who says he's gonna hold up his end, you know?" asked Dean as he paced to the other side of the room, grabbing an unmarked bottle of liquor from the shelf. "It's Crowley."

"He'll hold up his end," Rose promised with a sigh. "He's demon but he keeps his word."

"That's the thing, we never wrung a deal out of him, or even so much as a scribble that he would keep his end," argued Dean. "We're just goin' by what he said, not what he promised, and that bothers the hell out of me."

She turned to glance to Sam to see what he had to say but saw that he was no longer standing in the room with them. Damn, he was impossibly quiet for a large man. Dean noticed the absence as well.

"So I guess the moment's over. Is that what you're saying?" called Dean.

When there was no equally sarcastic retort, they shared a look.

"Sam?" she called tentatively.

Nothing.

They both quietly drew their weapons, Dean taking point with his hand held and Rose following close behind with the sawed off shotgun. Their steps were soft as well, essentially walking on the balls of their feet to keep from making too much noise. Creeping around the corner, they just stepped into the next room to see Sam's body lying on the ground, motionless.

Before she could call out his name or rush forward to help, there was a splitting pain and the world went dark.

* * *

When Rose came too, the first thing she noticed was the raging pain radiating from the back of her head. The second, was that she was tied to a chair, the rope wrapped around her upper chest and around her middle, sufficiently pinning her arms down. And finally, she noticed Sam and Dean in similar bindings, stationed across from each other while she was in the middle, forming a sort of half circle of hostages.

"Rose, you all right?" asked Dean, noticing that she had come around.

She gave a slow nod, testing the bonds, trying to create some space as she flexed. No dice.

"What's goin' on?"

"I think I know who you can ask," growled Sam. Confused, she followed his line of sight and flinched at the sight of the demon stepping into the room, flanked by two others. It took her a moment to see past the dark veil of the lead demon's true form and focus on the girl it was possessing. She was a young woman, very pretty with dark brown hair, fair skin, and dark eyes that were practically glittering as she approached them.

"Evil bitch," named Dean when he saw her.

She leaned in close to his ear, hand slipping over the top of his shoulder as she smirked.

"Keep sweet-talking me," she told him. "This could go in a whole new direction."

He gave a tight grin. "Meg. I've been dying to see you again."

"Well, here I am, big boy," she said, moving to stand in the center for them all to see. "So, what should we do now?"

"How about I rip you to shreds?" suggested Dean. Rose was confused by the ferocity. What was their relation with this demon? Obviously they didn't like demons in general, but she could feel the hatred blazing from the hunter.

Meg raised an interested brow, impressed.

"Kinky, I like," she approved. "But a little Q&A first, if you don't mind. Now, where's your boss?"

 _Crowley._ Rose's heart gave a hard beat, a cold rush of worry hitting her. What did they want with Crowley?

Sam, on the other hand, scoffed at her question, making her snap her gaze to him.

"You think we work for somebody?"

"I happen to know for a fact you've been juggling Crowley's orphans," Meg informed him sharply. "Now where is he?"

"Don't know, don't care."

She took a shaky breath, visibly trying to keep her temper in check. "But you've been working his beat for _months_."

"Doesn't mean we get face time," answered Sam with a smirk of his own.

There was a pause as Meg shared a look with her fellow cohorts. When her eyes roamed over Rose, her focus zeroed in on her making the other girl pale. The demon was on her in an instant, her energy flaring as she straddled her lap.

"What about you, huh?" she asked sweetly, leaning in close to her. Rose tried to lean back further but the chair and the ropes kept her still.

"Hey—back off, bitch!" barked Dean. Meg looked over at him with a smirk before turning back to her.

"So…how about _you_ tell me?" she purred. One hand slipped around the back of her neck, her fingers slipping into her red hair and tugging so that she was forced to look up at her. Her energy was flaring up and the girl felt like it was smothering her. "Where does he take all those things you snatch up for him? I'd bet you that's where His Majesty's holed up."

"'Fraid not," gritted Rose as the demon tightened her grip on her hair, making her expose her throat further. "N-no idea…"

"Really now?" Meg was leaning flush against her now, their bodies tight together, her mouth against her ear in a hiss of a whisper. "Because I can see his fingerprints all over your soul. Like a bell on a fucking collar."

Dean's sharp voice came again, earning the demon's attention.

"Listen, bitch, we don't know where Crowley's at!"

"Okay, I'm officially over the foreplay," she huffed. She pulled a knife out with a twirl and the point was pressed to the hollow of the girl's throat. "Satisfy me or I please myself."

Suddenly, Sam started laughing.

"Something funny, Sam?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Meg."

"Really?" questioned Dean incredulously. "Because from where I'm sitting—"

"Don't worry, she can't do jack squat."

The knife dug in a little deeper into Rose's skin but she felt the hand that was gripping her hair tremble slightly. She could see the demon's true form seemingly coiling and releasing almost sporadically, the movement anxious.

"You're scared…" she half whispered, keeping perfectly still. Meg gave her a scathing look, her hold tightening on her like vice.

"Rose, not helping," Dean warned.

Sam continued. "Look at her, Dean. If she _could_ kill her, she would've done it by now. Plus, she can see that Rose is Crowley's contract. If she kills her, she'd be bringing Crowley's wrath down on her own head. It'd be suicide. She's running."

Meg turned to look at the hunter, practically growling through her teeth. "Am I?"

"Judging by the level of flop sweat on all of you, yeah," confirmed Sam, not missing a beat. "Which means you're running from Crowley, which makes sense. Crowley would want to hunt down all the Lucifer loyalists now that he's big man on campus."

"How would you know?" Meg demanded, slowly rising from Rose's lap so to face him fully.

He gave a shrug. "It's what I'd do."

There was a pause, not a single demon present arguing against the point he made.

"She can't kill us," Sam said. "She needs us to get her to Crowley so she can stick that knife in his neck. It's him or her."

"Well, I hope you both lose," said Dean. He gave her a sneer. "But good luck."

Sam looked back to Meg. "So, you know what you gotta do now."

"Let me guess, you're gonna tell me," she snarked.

"Work with us."

Dean and Rose both looked to Sam in surprise. "Whoa, what?"

He gave his brother a stern look as he continued.

"We'll hand you Crowley with a bow on one condition."

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

"We go with you, you help us wring a little something out of him before you hack him to bits."

She narrowed her gaze at his condition. "What?"

"Doesn't matter," he deflected. "Question is, can you get us what we need?"

"I apprenticed under Alastair in Hell just like your brother." She turned to look at Dean with a happily predatory smile. "So, Dean, can I make Crowley do whatever I want?"

Dean's face was gravely serious as he looked up at her, his eyes dark and vacant.

"Yeah. She can."

She looked to all of them, her voice chirping. "It's a deal then. Hugs and puppies all around!"

The demons started to walk out of the room, leaving the hunters just as Dean spoke up.

"You gonna untie us?"

Meg sidled up to him, smirking. "Please, don't pretend you don't enjoy it."

On that note, they left them alone.

Fortunately, it didn't take too long for them to get free. Sam was quite the escape artist and was loose first, and thus able to get the other two free. Dean was quick to question his brother.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what are you doing?" he repeated.

Sam gave a dry breath of a laugh. "Dean, you wanted to screw over Crowley. Merry Christmas." He saw Dean's disbelieving expression. "What?"

"You wanna work with a demon again?" he exasperated.

Rose rubbed the back of her head gingerly, already aching and another argument from the boys was only making it worse. It seemed like all that was all they ever did now.

"We're working with demons _now_ ," Sam reminded him. "I'm doing this because I wanna stop."

"She killed Ellen and Jo!"

"I know, but you can't look at this emotionally. We need her."

"The hell we do. That little bitch is gonna screw us over so fast—"

"Of course, which is why we'll screw her first. Meg and her little posse are dead the second we're done with them."

"Yeah, if they don't kill us first."

"Oh, they won't. Because we're bringing insurance."

Grabbing his jacket, Sam was out of the hideout without another word.

The two left alone were quiet for a moment before Dean turned to her, giving a tired sigh.

"Rose…what's going on?"

She blinked in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Between you and Crowley," he said, turning to face her fully. "What's the deal?"

She paled immediately at the word. That was something she never fully disclosed with anybody. Not Bobby, not Sam, not anyone. No one knew what she had signed away to the demon all those years ago. What she promised him.

"Wh-what?"

"How is it that when we run into demons, they already know about you and Crowley?" he asked. "Is there something I'm missing here?"

"I-I-I dunno," she stammered. "I don't—I don't know what they see. Castiel could see whatever it is too—"

"Exactly," agreed Dean stepping closer to her. "Cas has to shove his arm into another person's body to see who they signed their soul away too, but for you it's like a freakin' neon sign."

She backed up, unsure as to where he was going with the conversation. Her back hit the wall.

"What're you—what're you getting at?" she asked, her voice trembling. What was going on? Her heart was racing as she felt a surge of fear rise up again and Dean stepped closer. His gaze was serious as he looked down at her.

"I heard you call for him, Rose."

Her heart almost stopped.

"You—what?"

"That night with the vampire Alpha, when you and I were waiting for Sam, I heard you call for that bastard."

"Y-you…you said I didn't say anything…" she croaked. Her vision dared to swim as she became lightheaded. Oh no, oh no, no, no…

"Just tell me why," he demanded. "I want to hear it for you and not some demon scumbag. What is it between you two?"

"I don't—I don't know—" She tried to take a breath, her chest feeling tight. "My nightmares—"

"Rose—"

"I can hear Sam screaming…!" she cried out. He appeared stunned by her admittance, his face losing color.

"What?"

The tears were falling, rolling hot down her cheeks. Her mind was in full-blown panic mode. He wouldn't understand that she and Crowley had a rather extensive history together, well before she met and got caught up with the Winchesters. She considered the demon her friend, the only person who knew her completely. Back then, there was no one who knew her nearly as well. She had to stay reserved, contained, and play the part of a small town girl. Crowley was the only one who she never had to pretend around. Then, when the world was ending she got to see him more often. Before then they would only see each other once a year, the anniversary of their deal, and now with her involvement in the hunting world she got to see him more frequently.

And now, the Winchesters were actively trying to kill him. It broke her heart, having the two parts of her life going after each other. How could she side with one over the other? They were both so incredibly important to her and she held them very close to her heart. She wouldn't be able to take it if the brothers tossed her to the side or decided she wasn't good enough or couldn't be trusted. She had given her whole self into this new life, with all of her heart.

"The nightmares…th-they've gotten worse, ever since we found out what was going on with Sam," she shakily tried to explain. "I think it's—just my imagination doing the work though, but I don't—I don't know why I say his name. I'm sorry, Dean—I'm sorry…!"

Dean looked at the red haired girl in confusion. Her back was pressed up against the wall, she was crying and her whole body was shaking. When he heard her apology it clicked. She was _scared_ of him. Scared of how he would react. He vividly remembered Hell and the nightmares that prefaced it. He knew they weren't something she could stop. Everything had been so crazy lately with finding out that Sam's freaking soul was missing and the incessant monster hunts, he didn't really stop to see if she was okay. She was new to the hunter lifestyle he and Sam grew up in. She left everything behind to start over with them and learn how to live in their dangerous world. Then there was everything with Crowley, the new head honcho of Hell, and she was somehow tied to him and he didn't understand the full extent of it.

She flinched as he moved closer and, ignoring the stab of guilt, he pulled her into a hug.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I'm just frustrated with this whole mess. Sammy and his soul, and Crowley being King Douche. Now he's in control of both of your souls, and it's like I can't do damn thing to fix it."

He felt her arms hug him a little tighter and some of the guilt abated. That had to mean something, like she wasn't completely afraid of him.

"You guys mean the world to me, y'know?" she admitted softly, muffled by his shirt. "Please…you gotta know that…"

"I hear you, I hear you," he reassured her, stroking her hair gently. He rested his chin the top of her head. "You've gone to the mat for us. Trust me, I believe you."

After a beat they pulled apart and Rose gave a watery smile, using the cuffs of her sleeves to scrub her face free of the tears. She pointed to the door.

"I'm just gonna get some fresh air. Should help with the blotchy cry face," she told him, gesturing to her face that was indeed flushed from crying.

The last thing she remembered was closing the front door behind her.

* * *

It was late into the evening, coming up on midnight when everything came together. Sam had managed to get ahold of Castiel and the angel was there to help them break into Crowley's fortress. Samuel had even come around later with the hideout's location, though the older hunter did not agree to come with them.

" _Nothing gets in that Crowley doesn't want in and nothing gets out. Period."_

Dean kept an eye on Rose through the night after their last conversation. She hadn't so much as said two words as she worked quietly on researching possible locations, going in and out of the run down house to go get more notes or put some away. It had him worried that she wasn't ready for a showdown like the one they were willingly walking into. She volunteered to run the last of the things to the car just before Castiel came back and they made their way outside where only three of the four demons were waiting for them.

"Hey, where's the bitch?" called Dean as they got closer. "She get cold feet or what?"

"Oh I wouldn't miss this for the world."

They whirled at the voice around to see Rose walking up to them. She tugged her hair free from the tie, letting the length fall down her back, running her fingers through it as she smirked at the hunters. Her gaze fell upon Castiel and she gave a coy smile.

"Remember me?" she asked. "I sure remember you, Clarence."

A strange mixture of anger and fear rose as realization dawned on them. Dean moved first, grabbing the front of her shirt and yanking her off her feet.

"Meg!" he shouted. "Get out! Now!"

"Aw, why would I do that, Dean-o? It's health insurance." It was so strange to hear Meg's words with Rose's voice. She grinned. "Besides, I like it here. It's got that new meat suit smell."

A knife was already in his free hand but Sam forced him to stop, grabbing his arm.

"Cool it, Dean. Remember, it's not just Meg. Rose is there too," he warned.

"He's right," taunted Meg. "Trust me, Rosie's awake and watching the whole thing in here. Front row seats."

Castiel spoke up, glaring. "Why are we working with these abominations?"

Meg turned her smirk to the angel.

"Keep talking dirty. It makes my meat suit all dewy."

"Simmer down," growled Dean. It was too strange to try and separate the demon from the human, because the two were as different as two people could be. Meg's crude words coming out of Rose's mouth was too bizarre. But how did Meg get the jump on her? Did she not have the anti-possession tattoo? Once this was over that was going to be the first thing they fixed, Dean quietly swore.

"We know where Crowley's at," said Sam.

"Great," she answered. "Do tell."

"Tell you so you can leave us for dead?" scoffed Sam. He knew that Meg/Rose wasn't present when they actually pinned down the exact location from the information Samuel gave them.

"You boys have serious abandonment issue, you know that?"

"We'll show you, all right?" promised Sam. "But we're going together."

"And what, we're supposed to trust you?"

"No, you're not that stupid," said Sam. "That's why you grabbed Rose."

He stepped forward, holding out his hand. "Give me the knife."

"No, I'm not that stupid," she answered, using his own words.

"Do you want us to take you to Crowley or not?" he asked. "You've already body-snatched our friend, so you can give me the knife."

Begrudgingly, she pulled the demon knife from within her jacket and gave it to the hunter. Sam studied the blade for a moment, checking it over, and the next second it was buried in the demon closest to him. The demon didn't have a chance to react, is body lighting up from the inside as he fell.

Sam held the knife out to stop the others from approaching.

"You saw him," he snapped. "He was more interested in killing us than getting the job done. I just did all of us a favor."

The remaining two looked to Meg and she held a hand up to tell them to stand down.

"We leave in one hour," decided Sam, the bloody knife still tightly in his hand.

* * *

" _GET OUT!"_

 _It was like a strange sort of paralysis. No matter how hard she tried to scream or move, her body wouldn't comply. The demon's presence was overwhelming, like she was drowning in the darkness, choking. She tried to regain control of her body, scrapping for some sort of control, but it was like trying to find a grip on polished marble. Meg's control was locked in place._

 _She could still feel her body moving, the words leaving her mouth, and see what was happening. It was like she was a puppet and someone was pulling her strings._

They had rolled up to the suspected site and weren't met by any obstacles, which was strange in a way. If this was Crowley's Alpha storage unit, wouldn't there be some kind of border security at least?

Castiel told them to meet him at the side door, where he opened it from the inside with ease.

"This all seem a little too easy to you?" asked Dean.

"Way too easy," agreed Sam

" _Yes, too easy because this is a trap!" Rose tried to cry out. "C'mon this is Crowley, he'll know we're coming!"_

 _Oh ye of little faith._

 _Rose gasped at the sound of Meg's voice in her head. Her mouth wasn't moving, so she must be talking to her in their shared mental space._

" _Oh I have faith," she growled at the demon. "Faith in that the boys are gonna tear you apart at first chance!"_

 _Feisty little thing aren't you? Meg seemed to laugh. Don't worry, I'm here in your head. I know what you're really thinking._

" _I'm thinking that you're annoying and should maybe pay attention to the death trap we're walking into!"_

It was quiet as they walked through the dark building, flashlights leading the way. They were passing what looked like jail cells. Some figures inside were still, covered in dried blood while some still rattled against their bars and doors. One even called out to them, begging for them to get her out of there. Judging by the tattoos on her arms, she was a Djinn.

"Please…you gotta get me out of here…" she begged tearfully.

"C'mon, we've gotta keep moving," urged Sam, keeping the group moving forward.

The quiet lasted for a little while longer as they entered another hall.

"Wait."

They stilled at the angel's voice, turning to look at him. There was a change in the air, it was slight but Meg felt goosebumps break out across her newfound body, the delicate hairs standing on end.

 _What—_

" _Run!" screamed Rose. Absolute terror dosed her entire body. She heard that sound every night in her dreams. She knew exactly what was coming. "Run! Run! Run!"_

 _Shit—!_

The sound was in the distant but approaching fast. Growls and snarling. Only one creature could strike fear into humans and demons alike.

"Damn it," cursed Meg. "Here come the guards."

"Hellhounds."

"Go!"

Their walking changed to full out sprinting down the hall, the previous set of doors flying open and the hounds charging after them. The demons where the first to be grabbed, Meg slipping past and keeping up with the others. That should buy them some time.

They threw the next doors closed, one of the boys shoving a wooden spike between the handles to keep it closed while the other formed a salt line. Things that would stall a Hellhound, but not stop it completely.

Blood coated the window as the hounds tore into the demons.

"I knew this was a trap," growled Dean.

"What do you want, a cupcake?" snarked Meg.

"That should keep them out," huffed Sam.

"But not for long," argued Dean. "How many are there?"

"Lots," she said, a minor croak in her voice. "I'll be pulling for you from Cleveland."

 _Peace out, Red. Enjoy being dog chow._

"What?"

"I didn't know this was going to happen. Bright side? Them chewing up this new meat suit ought to buy you a few seconds."

" _Like hell!" screamed Rose in protest. "You better stay here and fight! You brought us into this!"_

 _No thanks. I'd rather live._

" _You fu—"_

"Seacrest out."

Tilting her head back, she opened her mouth wide to allow her demon self to escape the girl's body. An awkward second passed but nothing happened.

" _Wh-what's going on?" asked Rose. She still was trapped in the depths of her mind, the demon's presence still ever present._

 _Wh…what? I can't—why can't I leave? What is this?_

"It's a spell, I think, from Crowley," guessed Castiel. "Within these walls, you're locked inside your body."

" _Well this ain't your body and you're not gonna help, so get out!"_

 _I can't! This body is our body now so you'd better get used to it, sweetheart!_

"Karma's a bitch, bitch," said Dean.

Sam pulled the demon blade out, looking at it closely. Dean raised a brow.

"What're you gonna do? You gonna slash at thin air until you hit something?"

He turned to Meg, holding the weapon out to her.

"You can see them, you and Rose," he said to her. "Take this, hold them off. It's our best shot."

She thought it over carefully, itching to take the knife.

"At Crowley," she gritted. "Take it and go. You kill the smarmy dick. I'll hold off the dogs."

"And how're you going to do that and Rose—"

 _His words fell on deaf ears as their body moved. Her hand slipped to the back of Castiel's neck and she pulled him in close. Their mouths met and she worked her other hand into his coat. The feeling was electric and the demon's energy soared at the angel's contact, thoroughly mixing with the human's appalled confusion._

" _Whoa, whoa, whoa!" protested Rose. She wasn't sure if she was blushing or if she could in this state, but she should be regardless. "Hey, knock it off! Stop kissing him!"_

 _Her hand met cold metal and she slowly gripped the item, pulling away from the angel. She could feel her smirk and before she could step away, Castiel's arms were around her again and she was pinned against the wall as he kissed her intensely, their bodies crushing together, his hand in her hair._

" _What is even happening?!"_

When they broke apart, Meg let loose a surprised breath, her cheeks pink with healthy color.

"What was that?"

The Winchesters had matching expressions of absolute confusion.

"I learned that from the pizza man," he explained.

"Well, A-plus for you. I feel so _clean_." She gave a shudder, like the cleanliness was something to shake off. She twirled of the silver angel blade she now had in her hand, much to the boys' surprise.

"Okay. Gotta go."

"Whoa, whoa—is that gonna work on a Hellhound?" asked Dean.

"Well, we're about to find out. Run."

Sam lead the way, followed by Castiel, and Dean hung back for one last threat.

"If anything happens to Rose—"

She waved at him to keep moving.

"Move your ass Winchester or you'll be a chewtoy."

The hounds started to barge against the locked door and the hunter gave one last look before running down the hall as well. The doors were flexing against the wooden stake, the salt line starting to fade from the hounds' heavy breath.

 _All right. Looks like it's you and me, kid._

" _Can we really beat Hellhounds?" Rose asked nervously. Her heart was beating erratically out of fear and she could sense that she wasn't the only one worried. At least they were on the same page._

 _We're about to find out._

" _Not a reassuring answer…!"_

* * *

"We have a problem."

Crowley looked up from his glass of Craig at the angel's sudden voice. He swiveled around in his office chair to see him rushing into the space, his trademark trench coat flaring out behind him.

"Castiel," he greeted. "So nice of you to stop by. I would've preferred an appointment—"

"Sam and Dean are going to demand you release Sam's soul from the cage," interrupted Castiel, his tone urgent.

The demon took his time to sip his drink, regarding him coolly.

"The Winchesters are being taken care of as we speak," he informed. "They'll make for a hearty ghoul meal."

"And when they defeat them?" asked Castiel. "What then?"

Crowley raised a brow at the angel's certainty that the boys would defeat his monsters.

"Say the denim duo beats my ghouls, what would you suggest?" he asked in return. "It's safe to assume that your method wouldn't involve a bloody and gruesome death?"

"No, we can't kill them."

"You don't _want_ to kill them. From a business standpoint, it would make our job undoubtedly easier," he reprimanded. "You wouldn't be distracted, we could pour all of _our_ energy into cracking Purgatory open, and you can kick Raphael's angelic arse, thus solving all of our problems."

"We are _not_ killing them," growled Castiel, aggressively stepping forward. If the lighting had been better, he would have been able to see his wings unfurl. A threatening reminder as to their differences, that they were angel and demon.

"Well, then," he sighed. "I ask again, what do you suggest we do? They're your pets."

"They need to have no cause to come after you," Castiel reasoned. "You have to hide, completely."

"They haven't seen me personally in months and yet, here they are," Crowley countered. "Simply hiding isn't going to be enough. They may be morons but they're determined."

He paused for a moment before presenting his idea.

"Then you need to die."

Crowley's eyebrows rose with surprise. "I typically need to make an attempt on a life before I hear that."

"No, they need to believe you're dead," he clarified. "If you're dead, then there's no cause for them to pursue you."

He gave a nod in agreement. "Fair point. So how do you plan on telling them? "Ding dong, the King is dead"? Or do you have a more elaborate number in mind?"

"No, they would need to see it for themselves," said Castiel, his brow furrowed with thought. "Especially Rose, due to the contract you share. Even with the demon Meg possessing her she would be able to see what was happening—"

Crowley held up a hand to stop him from speaking, his eyes flashing darkly.

"I'm sorry," his voice had turned dangerously soft, "did you just say that Rosette was possessed by that whore? The one currently facing my Hellhounds? She isn't using her regular meat suit?"

"Yes," answered Castiel. He studied the king curiously, noticing the change in demeanor.

While his outward expression was carefully still, his energy lashed out and the atmosphere crackled with the newfound charge, flooding the room with killer intent. Castiel didn't realize that the connection between Rose and the demon would be…problematic.

* * *

By some stroke of luck, they were able to defeat the Hellhounds. They were covered in black blood, their body marred by the large claws having carved into their flesh. Her arm and thigh caught the worst since it had to work as a shield while the other swung the angel blade. It was a little easier to think of themselves as a single being as they both felt the pain from the hounds, their instincts working together as they fought, both wanting to stay alive.

They had been jumped by the demon possessing Christian when they killed the last hound, and now they were secured to some kind of table. The leather straps kept them from wiggling even in the slightest, their arms outstretched, and the metal was cold against their bare skin. It made her stomach churn to think that he removed her clothes when they were unconscious.

"So, Crowley wants to know…well, everything," said Christian, rolling up his sleeves. "He told me to carve it out of you."

"Whatever makes you feel like a man," sneered Meg as much as she could with the strap running over her chin. "Go ahead, do what you want. Your boss won't be too happy with you either way."

Christian gave a dry laugh, using the tip of the demon blade to brush her cheek, trailing down her throat, taking his time over the swell of her breasts. Rose wanted lash out and shout at him to get the hell away from her, but Meg kept their body still, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of reacting.

"You talk a mean game," he said slowly, "but…you're scared."

Meg didn't need to say anything for Rose to understand that he was right, and that only fueled her fear further. If the demon was scared then it was for good reason.

Christian smirked at their silence.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

The knife plunged into their thigh and once again, the demon and human were on the same wavelength as they screamed, loud and high at the electric pain.

 _Rose lost track of time as Christian continued to carve into them with the knife. Her screams sounded strange, echoing in her own mind and ringing with Meg's. It was like the blade was made out of lightning, sizzling as it touch her skin and setting her blood on fire. The pain wouldn't end as he cut into her, targeting the soft sensitive skin of her inner thighs and working his way upward and inward._

 _She cried out at the pain and the invasion, her screams reaching a new octaves. She begged for it to end, for him to somehow stop or someone to save her._

" _Please!" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "Crowley! CROWLEY!"_

"You know…" gasped Meg, "you're stickin' that thing in all the wrong places…"

"Really?" asked Christian, sitting up from his work. Her legs were slick with blood, dripping steadily onto the floor. "You sure were squealing."

"Knock yourself out," she gave a small shrug, "if you want to keep slicin' into your new king's favorite human. In fact, have at it—it'll be hilarious to see you die."

"Do you really expect me to believe you?" he scoffed.

"Believe what you want," she told him. "But I'm in her head and trust me…Crowley's going to make your time on the rack seem like a cakewalk when he finds out what you've done to her."

"I guess we'll just have to find out."

Laughter suddenly erupted from her, the sound bizarre considering their current predicament, and Christian looked at her strangely.

"What in the hell are you laughing about?"

The demon knife was suddenly plucked from his hand and the tip was immediately protruding from his chest.

"Dean Winchester's behind you, meat sack," she laughed. Christian's body dropped like a stone to the floor as the knife was ripped out of his back.

Hurrying forward, Dean started to work on releasing the cuff restraints. When he managed to undo them all, he shrugged off his jacket and tossed it over her so to cover her somewhat.

"What a gentleman," she smirked.

"How's Rose?" he demanded.

"See for yourself," she said, gesturing to the bloody mess. "I'm currently the only thing keeping her body from bleeding out entirely, genius."

"When Cas gets back he'll heal her, until then—"

"I get it. We play for the same team. Pass me my clothes," interrupted Meg with a roll of her eyes.

Fortunately, with the demon possessing Rose, they were able to get on their feet with only minor staggering. Meg could feel the human's awareness fading from the shock of the pain they just underwent. She had to give her credit for being able to cleave to her sanity and cognizance. Most humans tended to collapse in on themselves, trying to separate themselves from the demon thus becoming locked in their mind. Rose was still clinging to the driver's seat, weakly now, but she was still fighting. After fighting Hellhounds and undergoing a quick torture session, it was impressive.

The Winchesters pulled the fire alarm so to lead the new King to the room. Even though they had changed back into their clothes, they hung back out of sight. An extra breather so to regain their energy. If Meg was going to kill him, she would need her strength.

" _No…" whispered Rose._

 _No, what?_

" _Don't…don't kill him…"_

 _Sorry, sweetheart. That's not up for discussion. It's what we're here for._

" _No…you can't…"_

 _Meg gave a snort at her protest._

 _You don't know me as well as the boys do, but I certainly can kill Crowley. I studied under Alastair in Hell. He was Hell's Grand Torturer. Crowley's nothing but an entitled salesman._

" _I won't…let you…"_

 _How cute, but you're barely present as it is. I'm doing you a favor by killing him._

The alarm was silenced when the demon appeared with his glass of amber liquid in hand. He gave Dean a strange look.

"You should be ghoul scat by now."

There was the sudden sound of metal and Crowley was sent to the floor after entering the room, the glass shattering. He scrambled away as quickly as he could to put some distance between him and the large wrench Sam was swinging. The moose had some shocking strength.

"Is that really necessary?" he coughed. He pushed himself to his feet, brushing off his pants. "I just had this dry-cleaned."

There was the familiar tug, a type of grounding sensation, and he checked his feet first and then he looked overhead to see a devil's trap spray painted on the ceiling. Of course.

"So," he sighed, "to what do I owe the reach around?"

The boys didn't say anything as they glared at him. He heard the new set of footsteps and he saw Rosette entered the room. His gaze narrowed into a sharp glare as he saw the demon's form overlaying the human's. It was Rosette's body but Meg was the one calling the shots. The girl's red hair was loose down her back and she was covered in blood and black ichor, her clothing shredded in multiple places. She walked in with a certain swagger, not the human's usual soft steps. Meg was overconfident, as always.

Unbridled fury was building within him at the sight of his human overtaken and he fought to keep his expression contemptuous at best. It was disgusting to see the dark demon energy tangling with his contract's and it was taking all of his willpower not to lash out and rip her free. In a way, it was a good thing that the trap was keeping him in place. Otherwise, he had countless ideas of how to exact his revenge on the Lucifer loyalist.

"Crowley," crooned Rosette's voice.

"Whore."

Her smirk vanished. "Okay. You know what?"

She brought her hand up, nails curled inward as she slowly pulled down. He felt her power claw at his insides and blood rushed up his throat, making him choke and sputter.

"The best torturers never get their hands dirty," she explained, seeing Dean's shocked expression. She looked back to Crowley.

"Sam wants a word with you."

He gave another cough, playing into the part, before looking to Sam.

"What can I do for you, Sam?"

"You know damn well," he said. "I want my soul back."

Meg made Rosette's head turn to look at him, amused. "And I here I thought you just grew some balls, Sam."

He rolled his eyes, turning back to the king. "Well?"

"No," he answered simply.

Dean spoke up. "Meg."

She stepped forward and made the same motion again. Crowley dropped to his knees, the blood crawling back up. He had to play the part but he couldn't help but glare at the demoness possessing Rosette. It made his skin crawl and his possessive nature only intensified.

"I can't," he told Sam.

"Can't or won't?"

"I said can't, and I meant can't, you mop-headed lumberjack," he snapped. Time to lay out the lie. "I was lucky to get this much of you out. Going back for the sloppy bits? No way. I'm good, but those two in there? Forget it."

"How do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't, but it doesn't change anything I'm telling you. Sam, why do you want the thing back?" He took a breath. "Satan's got one juicy source of entertainment in there. I'd swallow a rag off a bathhouse floor before I took that soul. Unless you want to be a drooling mess?"

Meg spoke up, Rosette's voice agreeing with him. "Sam, I hate to say it, but he's right."

"Yeah, right, I get it, thanks." Sam nodded. "He's all yours."

Dean disagreed. "Are you crazy? He's our only hope—"

"You heard him," argued Sam. "He can't get it. He's useless."

There was a second of tense silence and Dean handed the demon knife to Meg, resigned. She took it eagerly, stepping up to the line of the trap before looking back to the boys.

"You'll let me back out, right?"

They nodded and she turned her excited eyes back to the king, stepping into the trap.

"This is for Lucifer, you pompous little—"

 _Rose fought against Meg's control again, her strength surging in her panic. She threw all of her willpower against the sleek obsidian of the demon's possession. Screaming into the abyss she forced her voice as loud and high as she can and she clawed and ripped for her own body back. Anything she could do to loosen the hold, she poured her energy into so to scrape for some kind of power._

 _The perfectly smooth darkness was beginning to splinter and she felt her body's muscle twitch at the change. Digging into the fractures, she slammed her awareness against the newfound stress, hammering for the control to weaken._

 _Meg was going to kill Crowley with the demon knife and that was something she couldn't let happen. She wouldn't let the demon kill him and by god it would not be done with her own hand. She would not kill him. He was too important to her. He meant too much._

She brought her arm back, chambering for a punch with the blade in her fist, and when she made to release the hit, she was suddenly jerked to a standstill. Crowley remained on one knee as he looked up at her with a growing smirk. She obviously tried to move forward but her body was locked in place. Muscles trembling, she was clearly using all of her effort as he saw a bead of sweat appear at her temple. Meg's demonic entity was writhing as she tried to regain motor control but there was no progress.

A tear rolled down Rosette's cheek as the two struggled internally, her voice scarcely a whisper.

"C…Crowley…"

"There's my darling."

He moved quickly, sweeping his leg to knock her down, catching the demon blade as it fell and he sent it into the ceiling to disrupt the devil's trap in one smooth motion. Using his power, he pulled the blade back down into his hand and looked down as Meg's demon energy overtook Rosette's once more. He was proud that she had broken the hold even if it was for a short time.

"That's better," he said, stepping out of the trap. With a wave, the Winchesters were pinned to opposite walls. He turned the knife to Meg who was back on her feet, his eyes sharp with a glare.

"And you don't know torture, you little insect," he snarled. "Trust me, when I'm through with you—"

"Leave them alone."

He kept the knife on the demon but turned to face Castiel who suddenly appeared. He knew what was coming next.

"Castiel. Haven't seen you all season. You the cavalry now?"

"Put the knife down."

"You that bossy in heaven?" he mocked, keeping the knife where it was. "Hear you're losing out to Raphael. The whole affair makes Vietnam look like a roller derby."

Castiel brought the canvas bag around for everyone to see.

"Hey, what's in the gift bag?"

The angel pulled out the skull, the empty sockets facing him.

"You are."

The room was quiet, not even the Winchesters had something to say.

"Not possible," he muttered.

"You didn't hide your bones as well as you should have."

He took the demon blade away from Meg, tucking it under his arm so he could give a slow clap for the angel's "efforts". He was known for his theatrics and could easily play the necessary part. If they were going to stage his death then he needed to remain his usual snarky self. Anything less would tip them off and they needed everyone fooled.

"Cookie for you."

Castiel dropped the bag heavily to the ground, the bones inside rattling.

"Can you restore Sam's soul or not?" he commanded firmly.

The king snapped his fingers and the brothers were unpinned from the walls, dropping to their feet.

"If I could help out in any other—"

"Answer him!" barked Dean.

This was it. He paused, biting his bottom lip as he prepared for the final performance. He didn't look back at Rosette's form, Meg would catch on to the odd reaction. She would need to be fooled as well, his contract. It was not something he was looking forward to in the slightest. This would be the last time she could see him, at least until they secured Purgatory. Afterwards he could reveal his plan and that he was actually alive. Actually, he would be considerably stronger with the additional souls under his command. With the influx of power and his alliance with Castiel, nothing would stand in his way.

So if that meant he had to die, no matter how temporary…it was a move he needed to make. There was just a small part of him that wished that Rosette wasn't about to witness it.

"I can't."

Holy fire lit up the bag of bones and his illusion leapt into play, mirroring flames starting from his feet and quickly working their way up his body. The flames intensified and the skin started to peel away from his face, his screams starting of surprised and quickly changing to screams to convey the pain. His body quickly shifted to bone and then ash, his true figure vanishing and disappearing entirely.

Before he teleported away, he stole one more glance toward Rosette, the ache far more noticeable than before.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Oh my gosh, I felt like this chapter was a whirlwind, lots of stuff happening! I didn't really think how difficult it would be to write Rose being possessed by Meg, so I hope it made sense/was okay to follow with Rose's body but Meg's words/actions. But we had some proper Rose and Crowley time! Yay!**

 **30 pages for this one...so tired...but I can't wait to start the next chapter!**

 **Next time: Appointment in Samarra!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed! I love hearing your thoughts as always!**


	13. Chapter 13

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

Bobby Singer didn't really know what he was expecting when he got the curt message from Dean that they were making their way back. The phone call was short and he sounded aggravated. Last he heard, they were working on catching a Rugaru to turn over to Crowley and his goons. Obviously that plan either went sideways or they were caught up in something entirely different.

So when he heard the Chevy Impala roll up later that evening, he was concerned when he saw only Dean get out of the car. The worst was the first thing that came to mind, as it always with their line of work, and he opened the door to meet him halfway.

"Where the hell is everyone?" he asked.

"Well, Sam decided to find his own ride back," explained Dean as he walked around the second door on the passenger's side. When he opened it, Bobby could clearly see Rose's body laying across the backseat, red hair splayed across the upholstery. "And once I get Rose inside I'll explain the rest."

Biting back his questions, he quickly helped him get the girl inside and up to her room. She didn't so much as twitch as Dean carried her into the house and up the stairs, limp as a rag doll in his arms.

"How long has she been out?" Bobby asked as they placed the unresponsive girl on her bed.

"Ever since Cas healed her,' answered Dean. They shared a concerned look. Well, that was certainly worrying.

He door was kept slightly ajar so that they could hear her if she suddenly woke up. When they returned to the kitchen, Bobby made him take a seat at the table and grabbed them a couple of beers from the fridge.

"All right. Now talk."

After a generous drink of alcohol, his boy did just that.

The kitchen was quiet when Dean finished retelling what exactly had happened just a few hours ago. It wasn't a mystery as to why only one hunter came back fully intact. Sam and Dean both had a valid point when it came to the younger Winchester's soul. It was a vital part of Sam and a necessity; he wasn't "Sam" without it. Then again, after being trapped in the Cage for a year and a half his soul was undoubtedly damaged, scarred even, and that could have horrific effects on Sam as well.

So they were left with a tough choice about Sam's soul: let his soul remain in Hell to spare his mind with complete certainty or save his soul from the endless torture at the potential cost of his mind?

* * *

 _She didn't know what was worse; being possessed by a demon or left alone in the darkness of her mind, plagued with the memory of Crowley burning to death._

 _Actually, it didn't take that long for her to figure out the lesser of two evils. She would much rather be possessed again. She would take the smothering, choking blackness of being controlled by a demon if it meant that Crowley was alive._

 _His screams rang in her head, reverberating endlessly in the expanse of her mind. She couldn't find a way to block at the sound and she couldn't stop the vision of him burning away to ash. Flesh, bone, and ash. Flesh, bone, and ash. Flesh, bone, and ash. Over and over and over she watched him die from the angel's flames, the holy heat searing away his human form, eating through the skin, charring the bones, and turning him into dust._

" _CROWLEY!"_

 _It couldn't be true, it couldn't…not her Crowley. No. It wasn't possible. He was too clever for his bones to be found. There was no way that Castiel could find them that quickly—_

 _Flesh, bone, and ash…It was as if the memory was stuck on repeat, playing again and again before her eyes._

" _CROWLEY!"_

 _Tears rolled furiously down her cheeks and her throat was raw from screaming his name. She couldn't run to him, she couldn't help, she was frozen in place even in her own mind. Useless. She couldn't attempt to help the demon in her own mind, what did that say about her? She was absolutely worthless, unable to help someone she considered…what did she consider him? A friend?_

 _Was it friendship that made her crave his presence? Maybe at the beginning, when she was younger. Now, it was something she found herself wishing for, hardly aware of the thought half of the time. Not for any particular reason, she just like being around him. She was comfortable with him around and their conversations, their banter, it was effortless in her opinion. His cleverly sardonic attitude made her smile and she enjoyed their time together. Back when they initially started their tradition of meeting once a year on the date of their deal, it became the day she looked forward to the most. Rather than it being a dreaded anniversary, reminding her of what she did and how much time she had left to live, it was a happy moment. Almost like a little belated birthday gift. When the new year rolled around, she knew that somehow, some way, she was going to come across him, whether it be obvious or something fleeting, she would see him._

 _Their moments were precious to her and she held them very close to her heart. There were plenty of times where dark, awful thoughts would creep up and sink their hooks into her and the poisonous thoughts would make their way to the forefront of her mind. It was such a reprieve to have their meeting to look forward to and to help get her through the day. He was the one person she could truly talk to about anything. Back home, while her family was loving and supportive, she couldn't turn to anyone about what she did to save her sister. The damning of her soul and her fate that was to come, she couldn't tell them. It would break their hearts. So she kept it bottled inside._

" _Crowley…!"_

 _Her body ached in its entirety, begging to run forward and try to save him, to do something that could help him but she could only stay locked place. Every nerve was reaching out to him, her voice trembling as she cried out for him again, begging._

" _C-Crowley…"_

* * *

It went against his common sense but he found himself standing in the small bedroom regardless. He was invisible to the human eye, his presence completely concealed. The room was just like before, small, quaint, and with most of the available flat surface being covered in books and notes. It was one of those methods where only the person researching would understand the madness they've created.

His footsteps were silent as he made his way toward the small bed, his gaze trained on the unconscious figure. She was still unresponsive since their last encounter. He wasn't surprised, undergoing demonic possession was a traumatic experience on its own, let alone coupled with torture. Her mind needed time to recover.

Sighing heavily, Crowley took a seat on the edge of her bed. This was never a part of his plan. Going into hiding was one thing and he expected that at some point, in fact it could be more helpful and allow him to fully focus on the goal of breaking open Purgatory. He just didn't think that he would have to stop all communication with Rosette. She was always the exception to his rules. Ever since the beginning. Demons didn't keep in contact with the souls they contracted, it simply wasn't done. Why would they? It didn't make any sense to do so, yet, here he was, ten years of strong contact with this one human.

"More than ten years now…" he mused. Courtesy of Castiel's Enochian sigils, the girl was granted a blessing in disguise. With the warding, it overlaid his existing contract, covering the promised collection date. Now she could live until natural causes ended her and then her soul would be collected. Well, natural causes or if the sigils were removed, revealing the original collection date, but that wasn't going to happen. The markings allowed her to be tracked by the angel, prevented demonic teleportation, and not to mention made Castiel the hero, a concept he knew the angel was in love with. It was a reminder that he was still good even while the civil war with Raphael raged on.

There was a small whimper and he looked to see Rosette's brow furrowed in her unconscious state. Upon closer inspection, he could see that her hairline was damp with sweat and her breathing was becoming labored. Her fingers twitched as her body tried to wake herself up, but to no avail. Was she still having the nightmares, even now? Crowley's gaze narrowed as he brushed a few strands back away from her face. He thought the nightmares would abate while she was recovering, then again, that wouldn't be very Hell-like if the visions of fiery torture stopped out of courtesy. Bringing his hand up, he snapped his fingers to awaken her.

"Crowley!"

Her voice broke with the cry as she sat up abruptly, reaching out as if to grab something. Blue eyes were wide as she stared forward, disoriented. She looked around, trying to understand where she was, slowly drawing her hand back to place over her racing heart. The demon remained silent and invisible to the human eye, watching her. She was still shaking and she gripped the comforter tightly.

"C-Crowley…?" she called quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He found himself having to resist the impulse to show himself, instead he poured more energy into his camouflage. No, he couldn't reveal himself to her.

There was a small hiccup.

"Crowley…!" she tried again, doing her best to keep her voice quiet. "C'mon, y-you said…you said, if I call…you answer…"

That was true, he had told her that on more than one occasion. Oddly enough, it wasn't something he could properly explain. When she would call for him he could hear her, regardless of where he was at the time and without the use of a summoning spell. Her voice would be as clear as bell in his mind and he could find her soul with barely a thought and teleport to her side. It was effortless.

"So…answer…" she begged, her head bowed. The red hair fell forward past her shoulders, hanging limply. "Because…you can't…you can't be…not you, Crowley…"

Crowley had to bite his tongue to keep from speaking out, the want to answer her surging within him like a wave. For the love of Hell, he didn't realize that it was going to be so difficult. He shouldn't have come, it was too much to hold himself back and to stay hidden from her. He couldn't risk explaining everything to her due to her naturally honest demeanor, so he needed to keep his distance.

She lifted her head and her eyes were bright with tears, practically luminescent as she looked up and the demon became rigid under her gaze. She was staring right at him, but that was impossible. There was no way for her to see him—

The door to her room was opened and he couldn't be more relieved at the distraction. They both turned to see Bobby Singer enter the room.

"Good to see you up and at 'em, kid," gruffed the older hunter. "You gave us a bit of a scare."

"Hey, Bobby…" she greeted, her voice still rough. "How—how long was I out?"

"A few days."

Crowley got to his feet as Bobby slowly took a seat on the edge of her bed.

"How're you feeling?" he asked. "From what the boys told me, you went through the wringer."

"Pretty rough," she answered honestly. "Did they tell you about Sam's soul too?"

He nodded. "Yeah. That Crowley couldn't get it out of the cage."

"Right…" She bit her lip for a moment before daring to glance back up at the hunter. "So then…with—with Crowley…that really happened?"

If Crowley didn't know better, he would've said that Bobby Singer looked sympathetic as he let out a heavy sigh at the girl's question.

"'Fraid so. Dean said Cas burned his bones."

Her bottom lip dared to tremble and she bit down on it, nodding her head in understanding. She was clenching the blanket tightly, her knuckles turning white as she tried to fight her own shaking.

"R-right…"

The demon was surprised to see Bobby leaning forward and bringing Rosette into a hug, a gesture that was immediately reciprocated as she threw her arms around him. Her face was buried in his shoulder so to muffle the sobs that slipped through.

"I'm not gonna pretend I understood whatever it was between the two of you," he told her gently, "but I'm no stranger to losing loved ones. I know it hurts like hell, like a shot to the gut."

She nodded vigorously in agreement.

"You're not alone in this, do you hear me? You still got us," he told her firmly. "You've got us and we ain't goin' nowhere."

Again, she nodded her head, hugging him even tighter.

 _Loved ones…_ The words replayed in Crowley's head as he took his leave. It was…strange to hear that he was considered a loved one…

* * *

"You _what_?"

It didn't take long for another argument to break out. Sam had made his way back to Bobby's and Dean had come up with a new plan to get his soul back. The four of them were gathered in the study as the eldest Winchester presented his new idea.

"Hear me out."

"I heard Cas and Crowley when they said it would kill me or turn me to Jell-O, Dean," argued Sam. "I've heard enough."

"Death said he can put up a wall."

Rose couldn't help but raise up her hand in question from her spot on the couch beside Bobby.

"I'm sorry—did you just say Death? As in the Horseman?" she asked, her voice unwillingly rising in pitch. "You went knockin' on his door?"

She could clearly recall their last interaction with Death himself. Sitting in the Chicago pizzeria surrounded by the bodies of the freshly killed staff and patrons, terrified that each breath would be her last as she was used as a lure to get Dean to arrive so they could collect the last ring to lock away Lucifer. She remembered everything about that evening as clear as a bell.

Dean gave a grimace and a shrug. "Kinda."

"A wall?" asked Sam.

"Yes, yes, a wall," he reiterated. "Basically you wouldn't remember Hell."

"Really?"

"Really."

"For good? Like a cure?" he pressed. Dean glanced back at Bobby in hesitation.

"No, it's not a cure. It—"he paused. "He said it could last a lifetime."

A quick eye roll from Sam. "Great. Playing a little fast and loose with my life here."

"I'm trying to save your life," he snapped.

"Exactly, Dean. It's _my_ life!" exasperated Sam. "It's my life, it's my soul, and it sure as hell ain't your head that's gonna explode when this whole scheme goes sideways!"

There was a tense moment as everyone waited for the next person to make their move. Bobby stepped up to the plate, saying,

"Just curious…" He pushed up from the couch. "I presume Death's not doing this out of the goodness of his heart. So what's your half of the deal?"

Dean didn't answer him right away and Bobby pushed again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that."

"I have to wear the ring for a day," he answered. Rose quickly got up from the couch as well, stunned by all the Death information she was just now learning.

"And you still have his _ring_? The hell—were you ever going to give it back?" she asked.

Dean gave a half shrug. "It doesn't matter, apparently he's knows where it's at."

"Why the hell would he want you to do that?" asked Bobby.

"Get his rocks off. I don't know. But I'm doing it."

Sam gave a big huff and started to walk out of the study, an action that caused the other three to tense up.

"Where are you going?" called Dean. His brother sighed and turned back around to face them.

"Look, I hear you, all right? I get it. Just need a minute to wrap my head around it, all right?"

When they heard the back door open, they all shared a similar look of distrust. Ever since Sam made it plain that he didn't want his soul back, every move he's made has been met with reasonable suspicion. Personally, it made Rose more nervous than ever. If everything she knew before was Sam pretending, then he was something to be feared when he set his mind on something and had no act to keep up. All hunter skills with none of the moral boundaries.

Dean led them outside through the front door and they were circling around to the back of the scrapyard. They were quiet and kept their footsteps as soft as they could on the shifting gravel. It was a little difficult to keep an eye on Sam with all of the vehicles and the varying sizes filling the lot, but he was the tallest out of all of them which worked to their advantage. He came to a stop at a space between cars, looking down at the shallow hole.

"Looking for this?"

Sam looked up to see them standing together, Dean holding the Horseman's ring for him to see. He gave a shrug.

"Just taking a walk."

 _Liar_ , Rose couldn't help but think, her nerves on edge.

"Sam," said Dean, storing the ring in his pocket while Sam sighed. "I'm your brother. I'm not gonna let you get hurt. I know what I'm doing here."

"What if you're wrong?"

"I won't let it go wrong," he promised.

It was quiet before Sam gave a shrug, conceding. "Fine…'

"Fine? So you're—"

"So I'm trusting you here," he clarified. "Barely."

"You sure?"

"You're the one with the compass, right?" he said. "Just don't mess it up."

"I won't."

With both sides understanding, Dean turned around and made his way out, walking between Rose and Bobby, his voice just barely a whisper.

"Watch him."

It seemed that Sam was well-aware of Dean's warning because they had barely been inside for a minute before he asked them outright,

"So is this the part where you pull a gun on me and lock me in the panic room?"

Bobby didn't miss a beat. "Do we have to?"

"No," he said after a second. "I guess Dean's gotta do what he's gotta do."

Again, Rose couldn't help but feel the overwhelming sense that he was lying to their face. She and Bobby shared a quick glance.

"Guess we all do, kid."

She gave a barely perceptible nod, catching his drift. It was time for her to become Sam's shadow.

* * *

Thankfully, it wasn't her first time tailing somebody, but it was certainly the most nervous she had ever been doing so. Sam was the one who taught her all of the in-the-field hunting skills and tactics that she knew. If anyone was going to catch her in the act, it was him and that made it all far more terrifying.

She had acted quickly and turned on the GPS on one of the spare cellphones, tucking it away in the Impala. With Dean handling his bet with Death, Sam would most likely drive the Chevy if he was going to go anywhere as the car was in the best condition and was fully stocked with all of their hunting needs. When the GPS tracker started to move, she grabbed one of the more put together cars from the salvage yard. Anything too noticeable or unique would tip him off that she was following him and she needed to blend in as well as possible.

Fortunately, he hadn't driven too far. She saw him get out of the car with a duffle bag and walk toward an abandoned warehouse. Quickly, she parked the car a little ways from the site, not wanting to risk the chance of him hearing the engine shut off. She made her way quietly to the side of the building, painstakingly aware of every sound her body was making and she did her best to nullify them. Even the smallest noise could tip him off. Carefully, she peered around the window's edge to see Sam kneeling on the ground, a spell circle already made and he was working the ingredients together in a bowl stationed in the center. Damn, he was fast.

He struck the match, dropping the fire into the mixture and it responded with a surging flame.

"Sam Winchester."

Rose did her best not to flinch, moving slightly so she could steal a look at the figure who was speaking. At the edge of the high platform was the figure of the angel Balthazar glaring down at the hunter. Her brows knitted in confusion. Why on earth would he summon him? If he needed an angel, why wouldn't he call Castiel?

There was the barest sound of fluttering and he was suddenly standing in front of him. She made sure she was out of sight, close to the window so to listen.

"This had better be good."

Judging by his tone, the angel was less than thrilled to be summoned. She couldn't blame him. Their first, and last, encounter had resulted in him being trapped in a circle of holy fire. That certainly didn't make for a favorable first impression.

"Well, here's one for the list of dumbest things ever," Balthazar continued. "Summon the angel who wants to kill you."

Damn.

"Desperate times," answered Sam. "I need your help, Balthazar."

"Interesting," he said. "Since last time we met, you wanted to, um—what was it? Oh, yes. Yes. Fry my wings extra crispy."

Double damn.

"Well, that was a misunderstanding—"

"Some misunderstanding," he snapped.

"I need some advice."

"Advice?"

"Angel advice," Sam clarified.

"Then go ask your boyfriend," Balthazar suggested.

"Cas can't help me," he explained. "I need to know if there's a spell, or a weapon, anything that can keep a soul out forever."

Rose felt the color drain from her face. So Sam was looking for a way to lock his soul out from his body, regardless if Dean wins his bet with Death. Dread filled her chest but she steeled her resolve. No, they couldn't leave Sam's soul in Hell. He didn't deserve that, not when he did so much to save the world in the first place. She had promised him that she would get him out, so she wasn't about to let his soulless self ruin his chance for freedom.

"Aw. What's going on, Sam?" mocked Balthazar.

"It's for me."

"Well…the plot thickens." She could hear him step forward. "Where's your soul, Sam?"

When he didn't answer, the angel deduced the answer for himself.

"Good God, no. It's not still…?" he trailed. "It is…"

"My brother found a way to put it back in me," Sam told him. "I don't want it."

"No, you don't. No, no," he agreed. "Because Michael and Lucy are hate-banging it as we speak."

All the more reason to get his soul out of there, Rose reasoned.

"Can you help me?"

"Oh, yes. The question is, will I?"

"Set your terms."

He took a breath. "I'll do it for free."

"Free?" scoffed Sam. "Why?"

"You seem like a capable young man. I'd love to have you in my debt. And I have to say, I'm not a fan of your brother. So screwing him would delight me. Anyway, to business," he said. "The spell, yes. So finding the ingredients should be easy enough. But there's one tricky part, however."

"Okay."

"You need to scar your vessel."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning something that so pollutes it, it renders it uninhabitable," he explained. "Calls for something very specific."

"Great. What?"

"Patricide."

"My dad's been dead for years."

Balthazar chuckled. "To be clear, um, you need the blood of your father…but your father needn't be blood. _Comprendes_?"

Again, Rose felt the blood rush from her face as her stomach dropped to her toes. Sam would have to kill Bobby to keep his soul out. The older hunter who acted as a father figure to the boys their whole life, who constantly looked out for and cared for them. Her first thought was that there was no way that Sam would kill him. When she didn't hear Sam rejecting Balthazar's spell, fear took hold of her and she started to move. This version of Sam would do whatever he considered necessary. She couldn't let him do that. She had to get back to the salvage yard, at the very least back to the car so she could call and warn him ahead of time. There was no way that Sam was going to murder Bobby, not if she had something to say about it.

She had just rounded the corner, the loose gravel shifting under her shoes. The sound of something cutting through the air made her start to duck, but the motion was too fast and the blunt object struck the side of her head hard.

Sam finished stepping out from the warehouse, the pipe tight in his hand as he watched the girl's body drop to the ground like a stone, out cold. He had nearly missed her, but he had caught sight of fluttering strands of red hair by the broken window. It was slight and if he hadn't been looking for any signs of her, he might not have noticed it. He knew that she would be following him. She had forgotten to contain her hair to a bun, instead wearing a ponytail that day. A small mistake that he was able to use.

With a flex of strength, he was able to pick her up and he made his way to the Impala. He couldn't let her get in the way of his plan. He had to keep his soul out if he wanted to survive. His very own soul would break him and he wasn't about to let Dean, Bobby, or even Rose get in the way.

He closed her inside the trunk without any remorse.

* * *

Discomfort was the first thing that came to mind when Rose regained consciousness. Her attempt to call out was quickly diminished as her mouth was sufficiently stuffed and covered, turning all possible sound into the smallest of muffles. She tried to move but she found herself tied to some kind of post, sitting on the ground. The rope cut into her as she tried to fight the bonds but they didn't give an inch, keeping her firmly still, her arms tied back around the pillar. Next she tried to at least sit up a little straighter and she found that her legs were tied together as well at the knees and at the ankles.

This was Sam Winchester, of course he was thorough. Unbelievably so.

That didn't stop her from trying to get free. The rope burned against her skin as she did her best to wiggle loose, working all possible angles. Even when she felt the irritation at her wrists give way to blood, she kept moving. Hopefully the blood would help her slip free.

Time passed slowly and she gave a stifled shout of frustration, throwing herself against the bonds. Angry tears dared to roll down her cheeks and she cursed herself for it.

Dammit, here she was again, unable to do anything. She didn't know what time it was, only that it was night due to the lack of sunlight streaming through the gaps in the shed's siding. The ropes creaked as she strained against them. Had Sam already gotten a hold of Bobby? Was Dean still locked in his twenty-four hour bet with Death? She had to get out, she had to help! She couldn't let him kill Bobby, she couldn't handle another death! She already lost Crowley, she couldn't bear to handle another loss—

The doors were thrown open and there was the ring of metal striking, followed by the dull sound of a body falling. She couldn't turn around to see what happened. Was Dean back? Did he stop Sam?

Next was the sound of a body being dragged and the two people were brought into her line of sight. Her heart gave a painful beat at the sight of Bobby's slack body, low groans coming from him indicating that he was still alive, just dully aware. Sam moved with impressive speed, tying him to an old chair so to keep him from getting away when he recovered from the hit.

Knowing she couldn't be understood, Rose let out a very angry sounding muffle that made Sam turn to look at her. She pinned him with a sharp glare to convey her thoughts on what was happening.

"You know I have to do this, Rose," he told her. "I can't have Dean put that soul back inside of me."

Another muffled shout. He sighed and walked over to her, deft fingers undoing the gag. After coughing, her voice was rough when she turned her attention back to him.

"No—you don't have to do this!"

"You know what will happen if they put that soul back in me."

"You're going off of what "might" happen, it's not a promise," she argued. "Death said he could put up a wall to block out the memories of Hell, you wouldn't remember your time there."

"Why would I want to even take that risk? I'm stronger, faster, and better without that thing in me," he snapped.

"Oh, better are you?" she repeated, unable to keep the sarcasm from creeping into her words. "What part is better? Is it better that you can't sleep? That you have no morals—proper sense of right and wrong? That you can't _feel_? What's the point of living if you can't enjoy the good parts that come with the bad? Without love? You're tellin' me that you'd rather go on as this robo-hunter, goin' case from to case? What else is there for you then?"

"So I should take the mutilated soul instead and become a vegetable for the sake of _feeling_?" Sam said, nearly snarling. "Because feeling pain is better than being able to live?"

"What's the point of living if you can't feel anything?" she half-shouted at him, the ropes creaking again. "You're going so far as to kill Bobby—don't you understand how bad this is? You're human, you need your soul! And if things go south, _we_ will be there with you and _we_ will get through it together!"

He knelt down in front of her again.

"I know that you care, a lot, but you caring isn't enough."

"Sam—!" He quickly tied the gag again, the cloth silencing her words that she tried to shout for him to stop one more time.

Her heart was racing as Sam tended to the spell he was setting up on the old table. The tears burned again as she threw all of her energy into fighting against the ropes. She didn't care that it hurt and the ropes dug into her wrists to the point of bleeding. All that mattered was working to get free so that they could stop Sam and save Bobby. She couldn't stand by as one killed the other. She couldn't—would not go through another loss. Crowley was already taken from her and her heart ached with every beat, haunted by the memory of his death every time she closed her eyes. The thought of losing Bobby and having Sam's soul trapped in the cage forever threatened to break her heart clean in half.

"Listen to me…you don't want to do this…" came Bobby's voice. His voice cracked and she let loose a sob, straining as hard as she could against the binds.

"Sam…I've been like a father to you, boy. Somewhere inside you got to know that!"

Sam picked up a bowie knife, stepping closer to Bobby as the blade gleamed with a fresh sharpness.

"Well, that's just it." He position himself behind him, placing his hand on Bobby's head, forcing to look up and expose his throat. "Sorry."

One hand slipping free and she desperately began to claw at the rest of the ropes and the gag, ripping it away from her mouth, screaming.

"Sam— _don't_!"

He brought his arm up high, preparing the momentum to bring it down hard, but his downward swing came to a halt.

Dean.

"Hi, Sam. I'm back."

With a well-placed punch, Sam was down for the count.

* * *

Sam was now secured in the panic room, handcuffed to the bed as he was still out from Dean's hit. He and Bobby were downstairs keeping an eye on him while Rose was in the kitchen with the first aid kit, bandaging her wrists. She barely felt the sting as she wrapped her injuries, her mind far away. Dean said that he had failed Death's bet since he had taken the ring off before the twenty-four hour period was up.

By failing the test, they couldn't pull Sam's soul from Hell. Her eyes dared to water as she stared down at her hands, still stained red in some places from the bleeding. Death was their last real shot at freeing him from the cage, from Hell. Now…now what? The Sam that was with them would continue as he is, sans emotions, and the Sam that took the dive, he was still suffering and would continue to, forever.

Her shoulders began to shake and she clenched her fists tightly. Why couldn't she have died on time like her contract said? If she had, she could've been actively working on getting Sam's soul free and Crowley would still be alive because they wouldn't have had the showdown on behalf of Sam's soul. Now they were all in this predicament, Bobby having nearly been killed for the sake of a spell, and Dean was living with his brother who wasn't quite his brother. Speaking of, was Sam going to turn on all of them for stopping his attempt on Bobby's life? Who was to say that he wouldn't come after all of them now?

"Rosette."

Whirling around, her heart wanted to burst from her chest as she saw Death the Horseman casually siting at the kitchen table with some kind of take away meal in front of him. He looked exactly as before, all dark coat and impossibly sharp cheekbones, his eyes ever seeing.

"D-Death…!" she half-whispered. "I—um, how—how are you?" She distinctly remembered his demeanor from Chicago, very straight forward and exact. Manners would be a good play on her side.

"Well, thank you," he answered evenly. "You're still alive, I see. And still on my tier of resonance, just like before."

She gave a nod. "Yes, sir…clerical error, apparently."

"Interesting." He took a drink of his soda, a mundane act that somehow looked bizarre at the same time. "Collect Dean for me, would you?"

Again, she nodded. "Yes, sir."

Thrilled to take the first chance out of the room, she quickly hurried down the basement stairs. She found Bobby and Dean by the panic room's door and rushed up to them.

"Whoa, what's got you spooked?" asked Bobby, noticing her pale face and wide eyes. She turned to Dean.

"Death's in the kitchen and wants to talk to you."

"Well, if that doesn't sound like the start of a joke—" Rose gave his arm a sharp swat.

"Not funny! Get up there!" she urged.

With a sigh, Dean made his way up the stairs, disappearing from view. Rose gave a sigh as well, leaning against the steel door.

"You all right?" asked Bobby. He was leaning as well, his arms folded over his chest. She tried to give a small smile but it felt more like a grimace.

"You're all right so I'm good," she answered. "I'm sorry I couldn't warn you in time about Sam."

"I knew somethin' was goin' on, especially when you didn't come back. He said you had gone to your room to head to bed early. Didn't believe that, course," he assured her. "Boy's not in his right head so I was prepared. Not enough apparently. Used the trapdoor on him too."

Her brows rose in surprise. "Damn…"

Footsteps sounded suddenly and Dean was rushing down the stairs. Before they could ask what was happening, Sam started shouting from within the panic room.

"Stay away from me!"

"Open the door—now!" ordered Dean. Rose threw the deadbolt to the side while Bobby pulled on the handle, the door opening with a loud creak.

"Get away from me!" shouted Sam from the bed. He was straining hard against the handcuffs, the metal rattling.

Rose could only watch with wide eyes as Death calmly approached him, setting his walking stick on the bed while Sam squirmed.

"Don't!"

Death set a black bag on the mattress before taking a seat himself. Using both hands, he opened it up and a brilliant white light filled the room, making the girl squint against the brilliance.

 _Sam's soul…_

"Now, Sam…" began Death calmly. "I'm going to put up a barrier inside your mind."

"No, don't touch me!" he begged, panting as he tried to get free.

"It might feel a little…itchy," Death continued. "Do me a favor. _Don't scratch the wall_. Because, trust me, you're not going to like what happens."

Sam turned to look at them, pleading with his brother.

"Please. Don't do this."

Death reached into his bag and slowly brought the soul out. It was like a sphere, fitting perfectly within his hand as it radiated light. In the back of her mind, Rose couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful it was, it was like starlight.

"No. No. You don't know," protested Sam, looking to them again. "You don't know what'll happen to me. Dean, please."

Death brought the soul closer and his struggling only worsened. His eyes flickered to Rose at the last moment, still trying to fight free.

"No, no, please, Rose—!"

His words turned into a shout of pain as the soul met his body, melding into his chest. Sam threw his head back against the mattress in agony as his screams rang out, reverberating throughout the panic room.

Her heart squeezed in fear and hurting, hating that this was causing him pain, even if it was for the best. No matter what happened, she would stand by her words and they would help him through any complication that came their way. For the first time in a long time, she found herself praying for Sam Winchester.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Here we go, another update, yay! Not too much drama in this one, but a little variety: insight to Rose's now updated nightmares, some Crowley narration, proof that Soulless!Sam's attitude doesn't exclude Rose, and now Death fetching Sam's soul from the cage.**

 **Next time: Like a Virgin.**

 **Your thoughts would be loved as always! I'm already working on the next one!**

 **Hope you enjoy!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

The days passed slowly and there was no sign of Sam waking up.

Not much said, even with the three hunters in the house. All of them seemed to be running on some sort of autopilot. They would eat, drink, research, sleep, and then start again the next day. Well, Rose would try to sleep as much as she could but that was becoming more of a sad joke, more so than usual. Her nightmares were only fueled by the tragedy of losing Crowley, the ache still raw in her heart, and now her mind was playing on her worry for Sam. The terrorizing visions mocked her with the possibility that Sam was trapped inside his own mind, suffering an entirely unknown hell on his own because they asked Death to force his tortured soul back into his body.

Needless to say, she woke up feeling more tired than when she fell asleep in the first place. Not for the first time, she quietly shuffled down to the basement and toward the panic room where she knew the door was going to be open. She could see Dean's figure half slumped forward in the chair stationed at his brother's bedside. His head was hanging down as he was partially propped up by his elbows on his knees. Sympathy tore at her heart as she made her way over to the older brother and very gently placed her hand on his shoulder. He started at her touch but she quickly assured him, her voice a whisper due to the late hour.

"Hey, hey, it's just me…" His hair was mussed at odd angles and she could clearly see where he had run his fingers through multiple times in worry. She softly brushed some of his hair back with her fingers. "You should get some rest."

"…'m fine…" he mumbled. She could see the telltale signs of shadows forming under his eyes and she gave his back a tap, a little cue to tell him to get up.

"Yeah, well, you don't look fine," she teased. "Go lay down for a bit, I'll take the next watch."

Dean didn't look away from Sam's still body, his want to stay by his brother practically tangible and she rubbed his shoulder again. She knew exactly how he was feeling; the exhausting tug-of-war between his body's need for sleep and his mind's want to stay alert so to be ready at a moment's notice, just in case he woke up. The helplessness that drowned out everything else.

"I'll tell you as soon as anything happens. I promise," she told him, "but you need some sleep too, Dean. Being dead on your feet doesn't do anyone any good."

"You're…dead on your feet," he half-argued. She smirked at his attempt.

"Yes, well, it's a good look on me apparently. C'mon now, up you get."

Begrudgingly, Dean did as she said and got to his feet, stretching out his back. He didn't say anything as he spared his brother one more look. On his way out of the panic room, he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before leaving the room, his footsteps slow on the stairs. Stretching one more time as well, she pulled up the chair and settled in for the rest of the night.

It had been a little over ten years since she had last been in such a position, sitting at a loved one's bedside. She thought after making the deal she wouldn't have to go through that pain again, but here she was, like she had never left. She remembered it like it was yesterday, sitting in the hospital next to her little sister's bed, feeling every emotion tear through her. Hatred of the sterile hospital and the stupid scents it carried, frustration at the doctors and science in general for not being able to have a cure, agony at the sight of her little sister in pain, and, worst of all, helplessness that she couldn't do a goddamn thing to stop it. What was the point of her being a big sister if she couldn't take the pain away? Why couldn't it have been her? Why wasn't there some way for her to take the pain instead? Why would something so bad happen to someone so _good_?

Rose had to take a deep breath through her nose at the rush of painful nostalgia, blinking back a sudden dampness. She hadn't expected that to hit her so hard, decade aged emotions. She looked at Sam and gave a sad sort of smile. It was a different set up but the scene was the same, she figured, waiting for someone to wake up. This was the position she hated most, being the one waiting. Patience was not really her virtue of choice when it came to people she cared about and their well-being.

Reaching out, she carefully took Sam's hand and placed her own over his, two fingers resting on the pulse point on the inside of his wrist. Just like with Grace, she wasn't going to leave anything to chance and took note of the rhythm. Steady.

An idea came to mind and she gave a little laugh.

"Heh…Dean would say this too girly or a chick thing," she began, "but I…I used to do this for Grace, back when…when she was really sick…I know it's cheesy, but until you wake up and tell me otherwise, this is the game plan…"

Checking one more time that no one else was in the basement, she took a breath. She could only imagine Dean teasing her relentlessly if he heard. Taking care to keep her voice soft, she sang,

" _Somewhere over the rainbow…way up high…_ "

The rest of the night passed with a quiet melody of sorts, Rose singing whatever song or lyric that came into her head. Maybe somehow he could hear her and just maybe, she could help him find his way back…

* * *

Another day passed and Dean couldn't wait any longer and he prayed for Castiel. It was a little funny, she thought, that the prayer could be said in any context. For instance, she never thought that "Cas, get your feathery ass down here!" would be an effective way of getting an angels attention. It was certainly refreshing from the strict formalities she was taught as a student.

Her amusement died down when Dean came back into the study alone. Both she and Bobby sighed, setting aside the articles they had been going over.

"No dice?" she dared to ask.

"Zip." Dean pulled another chair up to join her at Bobby's desk. The older hunter pushed an empty glass toward him, grabbing a bottle of whiskey he kept at his desk. His own was already filled.

"Like my daddy always said, "Just 'cause it kills your liver don't mean it ain't medicine,"" quoted Bobby.

"I'll go get another glass," Rose volunteered. She could sense the vibe a mile off and excused herself to the kitchen so to allowed the two a little privacy.

Doing her best to take her time and not rush back into the study, she busied herself by going over the potential case they were researching. A couple had gone up in a light plane and came down in a crash during a huge storm. At a glance it looked like a tragic accident but the facts that stood out to them as a potential job was that while the plane crashed, the guy who was piloting was found burned to death seventeen miles away while the girl had yet to be found at all. Not even when the searching range was increased to seventeen miles to match where the boy was discovered. That put in the hunter range of weird.

She grabbed the extra glass from the cupboard and noticed that the two had stopped talking, their voices vanishing abruptly. Setting down the glass on the table, she hurried to the doorway and came to a sharp halt. Her heart pounded within her chest as she looked at the unfolding scene and she gripped the edge of the door frame, unable to keep from shying behind it.

Sam.

The youngest Winchester tentatively stepped into the study, his voice unsure. Dean and Bobby had gone still in disbelief at the sight of him as well.

"Dean?"

"Sam? Are you—" Dean was hardly out of his chair before Sam was across the room and hugging him tightly, his hands clapping loudly against his back.

After a good moment, he pulled back and looked to Bobby, a grin slowly overtaking his features. Neither hunter could say anything as Sam made his way over and hugged him too, Bobby giving a small grunt from the force. He and Dean shared a look of surprise.

"Good to see you," he managed.

"Wait," he stammered, pulling back. "I saw—I felt Lucifer snap your neck…?"

"Well, Cas kind of—"

"Cas is alive?"

"Yeah, Cas is fine," assured Dean, stepping closer. "Sam, are you okay?"

Still partially hidden, Rose covered her mouth in shock at seeing Sam awake. The vigor at which he hugged his brother and Bobby made her chest tight with emotion and her eyes dared to water. He was okay. Oh god, he was really okay. Relief and guilt crashed into her like a wave. Relief that the wall Death put up seemed to be working, judging from his reaction to seeing Bobby.

"Yeah, yeah…Wait—" He suddenly looked between the two of them, his smile dropping. "Wait, what—what about Rose? Last thing I remember, I—Lucifer was—"

Bobby gave a nod toward the kitchen and Rose flinched as Sam turned around to look at her. Her mind was blank as she stared back at him. How would he react to seeing her? If he was only just now learning that Bobby was alive, that meant the entire year they spent together training and hunting was forgotten, right? Was she essentially a stranger again? They had really only spent a couple of days together, a week at most—

Sam was before her in an instant and she found herself crushed in an embrace, his arms holding her tight to him. Ignoring her doubts, she threw her arms around him as well, burying her face in his chest. His voice was shaky as he whispered to her, being sure to keep his voice just above a whisper.

"You're alive…!"

Tears stung her eyes again and she poured all of her strength into the hug, unable to work her voice. Her actions would have to speak for now.

Dean cleared his throat after a moment, making the two break apart.

"So, you're feelin' all right?"

"Actually…" answered Sam, his brows coming together, "I'm starving."

Giving a watery chuckle that half-turned into a snort, Rose gave Sam's arm a pat.

"I'll fix you up something."

Since it had been awhile since the last time they ran to the store for groceries, she was really only able to scrounge up enough stuff for a couple of sandwiches. The way Sam scarfed down the food said more to the degree of his hunger rather than the skill of the chef, but she took it as a compliment regardless.

"So, Sam," started Dean.

He looked up from his food. "Yeah?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

She and Bobby shared a worried glance as Sam seemed to try and think back.

"The field, and then I fell," he answered before taking another bite.

Dean nodded. "Okay, and then?"

"Um, I woke up in the panic room."

"That's it?" asked Bobby. "You really don't remember—?"

"Let's be glad," interrupted Dean quickly. "Who wants to remember all that hell?"

Rose's lips formed a tight line, unsure. Was he saying that they were to just ignore everything that happened in between?

Sam looked at all of them, confused. "Well, how long was I gone?"

"A year and half," Rose answered. She returned Dean's look with a quick one of her own. She wasn't about to lie, especially for something so simple as the date. They could argue specifics later.

Sam did a double take at her words.

"Wh-what? I was downstairs—?" His eyes flickered back and forth. "I don't remember anything…s-so how'd I get back? Was it Cas?"

"Not quite…" she answered slowly. He followed her gaze to his brother and his expression grew serious.

"Dean, what did you do?"

He wet his lips before he spoke up. "Me and Death—"

"Death? The Horseman?" he interjected sharply.

"I had leverage," he promised. "It's done."

"You sure?"

"It's over. Slate's wiped."

It didn't go unnoticed by her that Bobby rolled his eyes at that last statement. Clearly, their last encounter with Sam was still heavy on his mind, not that she could blame him. The boy had tried to kill him to enact a spell that would lock his soul out of his body. Her wrists were still wrapped from the ropes that dug deeply into her skin as she struggled vehemently against the restraints, her skin bruised and irritated.

"Well, isn't this just neat and clean?"

"Yes, it is, for once," returned Dean a bit too sharply. Sam seemed to glance from the two then to Rose in a silent question. She met his gaze but kept her mouth shut, not trusting herself to answer.

"Is there anything else I should know?" he asked slowly.

"No," said Dean. He gestured to his empty bottle. "Another beer?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks."

* * *

Honestly, she didn't know why she was surprised when Sam pulled her aside the next day. He wasn't dumb, he knew something was off. She was brought to a halt just as she entered the study.

"Hey, Rose, can I talk to you for a second?"

"Yeah, 'course," she answered. "What's up, Sam?"

He gave a nod of his head toward the door. "Why don't we go for a walk?"

"Sure thing," she answered evenly. Her heart couldn't help put skip in worry and she tried to ignore the small blip of fear that appeared. He wasn't the same Sam from before, he wasn't going to hurt her, she had to remind herself. As if in disagreement, her wrists gave a dull ache.

Sam led the way outside and they started an easy path around the edge of the salvage yard. It didn't escape her notice that there was plenty of space between them and Bobby and Dean, who were both in the garage. If anything went south, she had a hell of a scream.

She gave her head a little shake, she shouldn't be having those kinds of thoughts. This was Sam, the real Sam, he wasn't going to hurt her.

"Listen…" Sam started but he stopped himself. Running his hand through his hair, he tried again. "I mean, Rose…I just—I just wanted to apologize…"

She looked up at him in confusion. "Apologize? What for?"

They came to a stop and Sam turned to face her fully. She couldn't help but notice that they were beside the vehicle where she waited for the Hellhounds. Over a year ago, she was sitting on the hood of the old car reciting every prayer she knew in preparation of her impeding death. The same rosary was still in her pocket actually, the red beads that were faded with age. In the back of her mind she wondered if she kept that particular rosary because the color reminded her of Crowley and his true form. With her mangled contract, she could see the crimson overlaying his form and for some reason that didn't scare her. Well, it didn't matter anymore, did it? Crowley was gone…

"Rose, I just—I just want to tell you how sorry I am," apologized Sam. She quickly pulled her attention back to the situation at hand.

"What do have to be sorry for?" she asked "You just got here, you haven't done anything."

"I mean, before I fell—when Lucifer was in control…"

Sam couldn't help but feel guilty as he looked down at the girl. Right now she looked perfectly fine but his most recent memory was of the showdown between the hunters and Lucifer. He felt Cas turn to a pulp, Bobby's neck snap, and he began to fight his own brother, sending him to the ground with a single hit. Next, Rose had charged toward him and instead of using any sort of weapon, she threw her arms around him in a hug instead. He felt Lucifer's humor at the attempt to stop him and he grabbed her tightly, lifting her off the ground.

He remembered the sound of her body hitting the hood of the Impala, the metal crunching due to his force. His own voice rang in his ears as he laughed at her efforts, telling her that she was nothing more than cannon fodder. Lucifer didn't grant her any reprieve, sinking his fists into her body. Instead of begging for him to stop, she had choked out,

" _I…st—ill…p…promise…"_

This girl who was dragged into their mess and Armageddon, who didn't owe them a damn thing, was still reminding him of the promise she made to get him out of Hell. _She_ was reassuring _him_.

He had been screaming in his own head for the fallen angel to stop killing his loved ones but his efforts only made him laugh. He could do nothing as Lucifer bloodied Rose, breaking her body, her skin split, bones snapping from his strength. It didn't take much time for him to see the life slip away from her, blue eyes blankly staring out into nothingness.

He killed her. She had died by his own hands—

"Sam?"

He was pulled out of his recollection when Rose carefully placed a hand on his arm. Blue eyes were focused on him, not blank like he last saw. He couldn't seem to help himself as he pulled her to him tightly, bowing his head. He was so unbelievably relieved that she was alive again. Everything seemed to be back in its rightful place.

"Sam, I know it wasn't you," she explained gently, returning the hug. "Trust me, I know that this is you now…"

He could've sworn her voice trembled but when they pulled apart she gave him a small smile. Maybe he had imagined it?

"C'mon, let's go see what Dean and Bobby are up to."

They seemed to have excellent timing as they made their way around to the front of the garage to see Dean and Bobby loading up the Impala. As they approached they were able to catch the last snippets of their conversation.

"Sam still asleep?"

"Yeah, let him rest. We'll call him later."

Sam took the chance to speak up. "Call me from where?"

They turned to see the two approaching, Dean answering after a beat. "Uh, there's this thing in Oregon."

"Great. I'm in," Sam agreed immediately.

"Whoa, whoa," eased Dean. "You just got vertical."

"Exactly," he said. "I'm up. I'm good."

"A few days of crap cable couldn't hurt."

Sam gave a laugh. "Right, because when you got back from Hell that's what you did."

Apparently that hit a mark and Dean turned to the girl for assistance.

"What do you think, Red?"

She gave him a grin, her eyes mischievous. "Hey, if Sam's going, I'm going."

"Not helpful."

"You didn't ask me to be helpful, you asked what I thought," she corrected with a shrug. "Besides, isn't it better to go together anyway?"

"All right. Looks like it's the four of us," said Dean. Although he wanted Sam to rest, Rose could see the relief at the idea of everyone staying as a team.

"You three go on ahead," said Bobby, passing one of the bags to Dean. "You got this covered. I, uh, forgot I promised that idjit Rufus I'd work the phones for him, so…"

The line seemed forced and Rose felt a little bad. If she had to guess, he didn't want to be too close to Sam just yet.

"You sure?" asked Dean. Judging by his expression, he caught on too.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said. "You three enjoy catching up, okay?"

He made his way back inside, leaving the three alone. Sam looked to Dean in confusion, noticing the behavior as well.

"What was that?"

Dean sighed. "One part age, three parts liquor."

* * *

So besides the airplane crash, there were two other disappearances from the same town that week. One college girl suddenly vanished from her apartment on the seventeenth floor last weekend, and just three days ago another girl didn't make it home from school. No relation among the girls; no age, social circle, or school in common. The victims were just young and female, no other physical characteristic to draw them together.

Their first stop was to see the sister of the plane crash victim.

"You're Penny Dessertine's sister, right?" asked Dean. He was taking point as the three of them were dressed in their FBI attire.

The girl nodded, her exhaustion evident.

"We'd just like to ask you a few questions," added Sam.

"Look," she sighed, "the cops already came by. I'm tired. So if you don't mind—"

"I understand. Really, I do," continued Sam. "I know how hard this must be. We'd just like to figure out what happened. This will be quick. I promise."

It was interesting to hear this Sam handle a case, noticed Rose. Before, if they had someone not immediately compliant, it would usually fall to her to try and talk their way into the scene, or risk Sam's curt attitude getting them in trouble. Although the aggressiveness or the flirting worked, it tended to make her uncomfortable. Simple to say she preferred this nicer version of Sam.

"Okay. Fine. Come in."

Sam stepped inside first and she and Dean shared a similar look of relief. If he was approving then this must be the way Sam was before Hell.

The sister led them up to Penny's room where they started to look around for any clues, regular or supernatural. The room was painted pale pink with a few flower paintings on the walls, a stuffed bear on the bed. The aesthetic made her smile in a way, it was the complete opposite of the vampire case they had worked awhile back with the bedroom and doom-and-gloom vibe. She was never a "pink" type of girl herself but at least this room didn't having brooding vampires staring at them.

"Penny was very shy. She kept to herself," explained her sister. "Not at all what you'd call adventurous."

"So going up in a plane during a thunderstorm was completely out of the ordinary?" Rose asked gently.

"She was terrified of that thing," she agreed wholeheartedly. "She just did it for Stan…"

"Stan?" asked Sam.

"The boyfriend," Rose informed him quietly. The sister nodded again.

"They were just starting to get serious," she told them. "She didn't want to seem, you know, not interested. I just wish I told her to stay home. We don't even have a body to bury."

With a few parting words, the three found themselves back in the motel room going over paperwork. Sam and Rose had stayed behind to start comparing victims while Dean had just made a quick run to grab lunch, his arms full with drinks and a white paper bag of fast food when he returned.

"Hey."

"What do you got?" he asked.

"Well, looks like those other two missing girls both baked cookies for the Lord," answered Sam, leaning back in his chair. Rose made a face as did Dean.

"What is that, code?"

"That sounds so weird, like they're some sort of religious gang," she laughed. "They're girls who are pretty active with the church and community. They volunteer and help out a lot."

"Right, like church choir, bake sales, promise ring clubs, the works," elaborated Sam. "They were good girls. But the thing is, Penny wasn't even a Christian, so—"

"I have another theory," interrupted Dean with a smirk.

"Really?"

"Penny's diary." He pulled the small book from his jacket's interior pocket with flourish.

"Did you steal that from her room?" asked Sam incredulously.

Dean gave another grin. "I love that you even ask me that—"

"And why wouldn't I?" asked Sam in disbelief.

"No reason. So girlnappings," he deflected easily. "What if it's not about religion? What if it's about purity?"

"You mean you think they're all—?"

"Virgins, Sam. Virgins."

Rose's amusement from their back and forth came to a sudden halt at his words. She tried to keep her expression even but she could feel the color draining from her face.

"Penny was twenty-two."

"Yeah, with a pink room."

"So?"

"And stuffed teddy bears."

Her body couldn't decide if it wanted to pale or blush from the topic of discussion. On the plus side, she could be used as bait if purity was the monster's motive. The downside, she would have to admit to the brothers that she was twenty-seven and virgin and that was a whole other kettle of fish because she would then need to explain that her virginity was a part of her deal with Crowley and that was more embarrassment then she could typically handle.

"Fine, but you really think—?"

Dean held up a finger to quiet him and began to read from the diary like a teacher would read from a book. ""I've decided I'm going to give Stan my most precious gift.""

"A little pretentious way to say it," Rose added weakly.

"And wow, that sounded creepy coming out of your mouth," finished Sam.

"I think I delivered it," he shrugged.

"You know, you could have led with the diary?" said Sam. "Anyways, let's say you're right. Fine. Who would want virgins?"

"You got me," sighed Dean. "I prefer ladies with experience."

"Helpful," Rose tried to tease. She cleared her throat. "Don't certain spells or curses call for the blood or even the death of a virgin?"

"Right, but gathering up multiple victims makes it sound more like a feeding. So I think we're still safe betting it's a monster of some sort," explained Sam.

She tried not to let her disgust show at the prospect. "Great…"

Quietly, she thought back to the contract she had made with Crowley all those years ago. She had promised her soul, virginity, and eternal servitude out of desperation to save her sister. He had taken her offer, sealing it with a kiss and binding her soul to him. So from that point she didn't even attempt to pursue a proper romantic relationship. Every so often she would try to go out on a date, maybe flirt a little, but the efforts always fell flat because she was never really interested in the other person, her thoughts wandering back to Crowley most of the time. There were plenty of conversations with her mom about the future and how she needed to seriously start looking for someone and to think about settling down. Of course, she didn't have the heart to tell her that she wasn't going to live past twenty-six.

Now with Crowley dead, what did that mean for her? At the thought her chest felt painfully tight, her heart contracting sharply. Still, she couldn't think of the future or of some random person that she would sleep or settle down with. It still felt like betrayal in a way. She couldn't bring herself to think ahead in regards to romance, she didn't have time for that. Not to mention that she didn't want to, cleaving to her memories of the demon, their last encounter seared into her mind. Just the two of them in that run down kitchen, the heat radiating from him, his arms around her and their lips had only just scarcely brushed, not quite connecting, but the electricity was there, dancing up and down her spine.

She missed him so much…

* * *

The next day they were called to the hospital due to an attempted attack on a girl that fit their profile. The fact that it was "attempted" allowed them the chance to ask questions to try and figure out what was happening.

"It happened so fast," said the girl quietly.

"It's all right, Melissa," Sam reassured her. "What came at you? You can tell us."

She paused, taking a breath. "It—it looked like, uh…a giant bat…"

Her voice was still soft and she quickly looked down at her sheets, embarrassed. The three shared a look, unsure of what to make of the information.

"You think I'm making it up, right?" she asked. "It's what the other man said."

"Well, I'm not the other man," Sam told her kindly. She looked reassured by his words, believing him.

"It came _right_ at me," she told them. "It was huge. I swear."

"We believe you," Rose promised her. "Were you able to see if there was anything else distinguishing about what attacked you?"

"No, it was too dark," she said. "It was just so big—that's how I got this…"

Very gingerly, she pulled the back of the gown open enough for them to see the large pair of lines cut into the back of her shoulder, already stitched up by the medical staff but still an alarming sight.

 _Talons_ , was Rose's first thought.

"So it attacked, and then what happened?" asked Sam.

"I don't know. I passed out…and when I woke up, it was gone."

"Is there anything else you can think of? Anything you can tell us, even if it doesn't seem important?"

She was quiet for a moment, looking at her hands. "Well…my ring got lost…or else that thing stole it, if that makes any sense…"

"What kind of ring?" asked Dean.

"Gold. Promise ring."

"Promise ring," he reiterated, "from, like, a church? Like a purity ring?"

"Yeah. Why?"

The three shared a look again. If what they were hunting was tracking down virgins, why would it release this girl, especially when she was wearing a ring that clearly stated her purity status? Unless…

Dean cleared his throat. "I gotta ask…Melissa, look, nobody is judging anybody here, okay? Believe me. But, should you really be wearing that ring?"

"Well—I am—really—"

"Really?"

Her bottom lip quivered after a moment.

"Matt Barne didn't count!"

The sound of the incoming ambulance filled the air as they made their way through the parking lot.

"So, what, you think Batman tried to rape her?" guessed Sam.

"Well, he does carry a lot of rage," answered Dean. "But he rejected her because she was already dehymenated, huh?"

Rose raised a brow in question. "You think?"

"I think it goes to show that being easy is pretty much all upside."

"So, what kind of thing likes virgins and gold?" asked Sam.

Dean guessed, "P. Diddy?"

"Smaug," Rose couldn't help but snort.

"Real monsters, Bilbo," he teased. "And Dean, y'know, it's comforting."

"What is?"

"I died for a year, came back, and you're still not funny."

"Shut up. I'm hilarious."

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," exasperated Sam. "This can't be possible."

"Try me."

He typed on his laptop again, making Rose look up from the book she was combing through while Dean worked on a perimeter.

"I Googled fire, claws, flying, stealing virgins and gold, and it all takes me to the same place."

"Where?"

He turned his computer around for them to see. "World of Warcraft fansites."

"Really?" asked Rose, leaning in to take a look.

Dean turned away from the map to look at them. "I don't know what that means."

"Dragons, dude," he simplified. "Guess Rose wasn't wrong…"

"I was just being a smartass," she quickly defended.

"Right, because it shouldn't be possible."

She and Dean turned to each other and she gave a shrug. "Monsters have been really weird this year…"

"What? How? In what reality could _this_ be real?" asked Sam.

"Red's right, it's been a strange year," he agreed. "We should get a second opinion."

This time she gave him a confused look. "Who're you gonna call? Hagrid?"

"Close. Bobby might know something," he said, pulling out his phone. "Nerd."

She rolled her eyes, amused as the phone rang. This conversation should be fun, even one sided, and very short.

No greetings were necessary.

"Hey, what do you know about dragons?...Seriously…Could you make a few calls?...Humor me…You're a gentleman and a scholar…Everything's fine. Sam and Rose say hey."

With a small beep, the call was ended.

"A whole lotta nothin', huh?" guessed Rose. The sigh was all the answer she needed.

Time passed slowly as they worked on researching what the monster could possibly be and if it was really a dragon, where it could be, why it was there, and how to try and kill it. As if that wasn't difficult enough, they were also trying to differentiate what information was valid and what was fan-made.

Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed, flipping through John Winchester's journal. Dean sighed, tired as he closed the laptop.

"Dad never wrote anything about dragons. I promise," he said. "I'd remember if I read _The Neverending Story_ in there."

"Hey…did we hunt a skinwalker lately?"

Rose immediately looked up from her book at Sam's question. While it was relatively harmless, it did reflect an event from the past year and half, information that was supposed to be behind Death's wall in his mind. She quickly looked to Dean, her reaction unnoticed as Sam was looking to his brother as well.

"Doesn't ring a bell. Why?"

"I don't know. Just déjà vu or something." He looked back at the journal and then up again. "Are you sure? I could have sworn—"

"You gotta remember your eggs are still a little scrambled," said Dean. "But, yeah, I'm sure."

"All right. Yeah. Never mind."

Dean returned her concern, his mouth forming a firm line. Thankfully, the phone rang and he quickly answered.

"Hey, Bobby. What do you got?…Dr. Visyak, SFU. Got it. Thanks."

Scribbling down the information, Dean got to his feet.

"All right. I'm going to San Francisco, figure out how to kill these things," he told them. "You two figure out where they are."

"Did Bobby say where they like to park?" asked Sam.

"No."

"Great. Back to the lore," he grumbled, less than enthused.

"Which says what, that they live in Middle-earth?" joked Dean.

"Yes, stealing gold from the dwarves under the mountain," added Rose with a knowing smirk.

"Close though. It says they live in caves."

Dean shook his head, grabbing his jacket before heading out.

"Nerds."

* * *

A few hours had passed while the two poured over lore and geographical maps, trying to pinpoint where the dragons were taking the girls. According to the information they could dig up, the common place for the monsters were caves. While that was all well and good, it wasn't exactly a commodity for the state of Oregon, least of all the small town they were currently in.

"All right. If I read one more World of Warcraft theory I'm going to go crazy," groaned Rose, stretching back in her chair. "Do you want a drink? I think I saw a vending machine."

"Yeah, that'd be great. Thanks."

Making sure she had enough coins from her bag, she left the motel room and walked toward the main office where she had spotted the old machine. She was vaguely aware of the fact that she didn't ask Sam what drink he wanted, but she was going off the information she had learned from before. Shrugging her shoulders, she busied herself with feeding the coins into the slot. Something as little as that couldn't be a threat to the wall, could it? Then again, he was already experiencing a sense of déjà vu, evident when he asked them about the skinwalker. That case was relatively recent, so maybe it was a coincidence?

She sighed as she headed back to the room, the two cold drinks in her hands. She never did believe in coincidences, they would just have to be careful that nothing else messed with the wall. Pushing the door open, she came to a standstill at the sight of Castiel in the room.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, quickly closing the door behind her.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, Cas was—was just telling me about how I was walking around without a soul last year."

She whirled on the angel, eyes wide as she scolded, " _Cas!_ "

He simply furrowed his brow at her outburst. "I don't understand. Does he not know?"

"Not anymore!" she exasperated. Setting the drinks down, she ran her hand through her hair. "Dammit, Dean's going to be pissed…"

"Were you guys ever going to bring this up?" asked Sam. "I mean, how could I be walking around _soulless_?"

"There was an attempt to resurrect you, but it was incomplete due to your soul being locked in the cage. Your mind and body was restored while your soul remain trapped."

If looks could kill the angel would be dead on the spot.

"Just—just tell me that's all you know," she asked, doing her best to keep her voice under control. "That's all you told him, right?"

When the two remained guiltily silent she threw her hands up in defeat.

"Jesus Christ, how long was I gone?!"

"Rose, don't get mad at Cas," deterred Sam, getting to his feet. "I told him to tell me."

She turned her focus to him, stepping closer.

"Sam Winchester, you listen to me when I say that it is for your own good to just— _forget_ this past year," she told him, her tone pleading. "Whatever Cas told you—forget it."

"How can I forget it?" he said, incredulous. "After what I did to Dean, to Bobby—to you? How can I possibly ignore that?"

"I don't know, but you just have to," she said. She looked back at Cas. "Did you explain to him about the wall?"

"No. I thought you had already discussed the deal with Death. I can see that I was misinformed," he answered.

She took a breath before apologizing, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite your head off."

Castiel nodded in return.

"I understand."

She gestured to the table for them to take a seat, suddenly tired from her emotional outburst. Castiel politely declined, stating he had to get back to heaven, unable to stay away for too long due to the seemingly never ending battle with Raphael. When the angel left, Sam took a seat at the table as well and Rose began,

"Okay, so, the deal is Death put up a wall in your mind to keep back all of your memories of Hell and the cage."

"Great."

"Exactly, but it's not a perfect solution," she explained. "Hell is behind the wall but so is this past year and half that you were with us topside. So by trying to remember this past year, you're pushing against the wall."

"But how can I just ignore all that time? It was still me running around so it's my responsibility for whatever I did. I mean—I almost killed Bobby!"

"I know and I'm sorry but you can't dwell on it," she reached out and grabbed his hand with both of hers. "This wall is a one-time deal and if it comes crashing down, we—we have no idea what will happen, what the memories of Hell will do to you."

"But—"

"Sam, _please_ ," she begged. "I promise, I'll fill you in on anything from the past year if it's absolutely necessary, but please, you have to leave it alone."

He took a slow breath and nodded.

"Okay."

* * *

Dean returned to the motel later that same day after a successful visit with Dr. Visyak. He had learned what kind of weapon would kill a dragon, a sword forged with dragon's blood. While that seemed like an impossible task, seeing as you needed dragon's blood to make the weapon to kill the dragon, it was nothing short of a miracle that Dr. Visyak happened to have such a sword. The sword of Bruncvik.

Except, it was more like the dagger of Bruncvik now.

"What are we supposed to do with this, give it a booster shot?" asked Sam, looking at the broken sword. Apparently there was some trouble getting it out of the stone it was bound to.

"It's what we got. We just have to get a little closer. That's all," defended Dean. "Where are we on the caves?"

"Nowhere on caves," answered Rose.

"Sewers, on the other hand. Here, check this out," he finished, pulling the map around for him to see, pointing to the market district. "So two of the disappearances happened within a mile of here. So I figure we start there, work our way around."

"Awesome. Who doesn't love sewers?" Dean mumbled sarcastically. "Let's go."

Making certain that her hair was pinned back tightly, Rose followed the boys out to the car, not looking forward to exploring the town's sewer.

Hours passed as they carefully worked through the sewer system, their flashlights still going strong. Rose did her best not to focus on the variety of smells, otherwise she wouldn't be able to pay attention to anything else besides just how _gross_ everything was down there.

"Oh, God," groaned Dean. "Just when I get used to a smell, I hit a new flavor. Dude, we've been here for hours. There is nothing. I think the lore is off. Hey, what if dragons like nice hotels?"

"I second that!" added Rose.

Sam didn't seem to be interested in what they were saying as his beam of light moved. "What is that?"

"What?"

Their lights followed his and the pile of gold glittered in response. It was like a hoarder's stash of jewelry, watches, anything gold and shiny basically.

"Looks like the lore holds up…" she muttered.

Dean bent down to pick up a piece of gold, studying it. "Okay, so maybe there are dragons here."

Sam was already looking around again. "Guys, check this out…"

Taking care to keep her footsteps soft, she followed him to what appeared to be an altar of some sort. There were lit candles, a shallow bowl of unrecognizable items, small bottles of what looked like blood, and a very aged leather bound book of some sort.

"A little arts-and-crafty for a giant bat, right?"

"A bit more ritual-y…" she added. Before she could open the book to take a closer look there was the sound of someone calling, their voice softly bouncing from down the adjacent tunnel.

"Hello? Is someone there? Can you please help us?"

They made their way down the hall, following the voice. Stepping onto the workman's walkway, it allowed them more of a visual advantage as they searched for the source of the voice.

"Hello?" came the desperate cry again. "Over here!"

Following the sound, it took a second to find them since they were beneath the grates. Shining the light toward them, they were able to see that all the girls who had gone missing were kept all together, like cattle in a pen.

"'Hey. We're gonna get you out," promised Dean.

"Quick, they're coming back!"

Sam wedged the crowbar under the hinge and started to pry it open while Rose knelt down to ask the girls about their captor.

"How many are there?"

The girl she was looking at suddenly paled, her eyes growing wide. Abruptly, Sam vanished from her peripheral and she turned in time to see a boot sink into her stomach and send her flying down the walkway.

She crashed hard, head banging against the ground in the fall. Rolling onto her side she tried to catch her breath, her diaphragm struggling to recover properly and stars dancing in her eyes. Her ribs rang with pain and protest, but she pushed herself upright with a groan of effort. Dean lunged forward at the dragon, who looked just like a regular guy, and swung the sword of Bruncvik. It sliced the dragon's arm and the resulting gouge looked purple and acidic at the sword's touch.

"Where'd you get that?" he growled at Dean.

"Comic-Con."

The victory was short lived as the dragon managed to grab Dean's arm, forcing it back and the broken sword clattered through the grated floor. Taking the opportunity that no one was paying her any mind, Rose quickly hurried over to where the sword fell. Dropping to the ground again, she was lying flat on her stomach as she stuck her arm through the grates opening. The sword was stuck tip first in the ground, leaving the handle easy to grasp. The only difficulty was that sword was out of her reach.

Glancing back at the fight, she saw the dragon's hand suddenly burn bright and she didn't have to think twice to understand that it was a different incarnation of dragon fire. There was a sudden sound of impact as Sam struck the dragon's back with a crowbar and Dean was beside her, reaching past the grate. While he naturally had more reach, her arm and shoulder were more narrow and both of their fingertips were brushing against the pommel. Her nail glanced against the metal but she immediately recoiled when Dean was grabbed by the back of his jacket and sent flying away from her.

She couldn't help but curse inwardly. Throwing herself back to the floor, she thrust her arm down toward the sword, ignoring her body's natural reach. The fight was still going on, each brother occupied with a monster, because, of course, there was more than one. She pressed her cheek against the flor as she reached, pushing all of her physical ability into stretching her arm out further.

 _Finally!_

There was the sound of metal scraping against metal as she drew the sword from the depths, jumping to her feet. The brothers were each blocked by a dragon but Sam had at least a crowbar while Dean had nothing. The dragon facing him brought his hand up and it started to glow red. Her choice was made in a blink, and she leapt forward, thrusting the broken sword forward.

Violet lightning seemed to spark from the metal and she yanked it back, whirling around to see Sam turning back to her. Without a conscious thought, she tossed the sword to him and he dropped the crowbar and caught the broken weapon without missing a beat.

She didn't see if he turned and landed the next hit because there was a sudden sound of rushing air and darkness smothered her.

* * *

Like a curtain being yanked back, the world was revealed to her again and Rose inhaled deeply, as if she had been holding her breath. Her feet were barely touching the ground as she was forcibly moved. Head lolling forward for a moment, she tried to regain her bearings while voices spoke up.

"What took you so long?" one demanded. "What happened?"

"Ran into a problem," the dragon holding her answered. The surroundings were coming into focus and she could see that she was out in the woods somewhere. There was no indicator to tell her just how far she was from Sam and Dean in the little Oregon town or how late it was into the night.

"You're damn lucky I got enough—"

"—But take a look at this one."

Her feet stumbled over each other as she was shoved forward and the other guy grabbed her tightly by her upper arms.

"What do you—" He stopped as he studied her and she jerked back, struggling against his grip. Leaning in closer, he muttered,

"Well, aren't you interesting…"

She snapped her teeth at him in response, wanting nothing more than to tear that smug look away, "Screw you, cue ball!"

"This is your lucky day, little girl," he chuckled.

He spun her around too quickly for her to break away and he marched her forward. His strength did nothing to deter her as she threw her weight against him, digging her heels into the ground to push back, to stall him from whatever their plan was with her.

The trees quickly gave way to a rocky cliff side and her panic spiked. She thrashed against the dragon, doing everything in her physical power to somehow wiggle free. The edge drew nearer and her heart pounded rapidly within her chest. She struggled even harder, her mind whirling at what to do. What was going to happen? What was the point? What were they trying to do?

"Stay. Still," the dragon hissed her ear. In response, she threw her head back, feeling the back of her skull make contact with his nose.

Letting out a roar of frustration (and hopefully pain), he returned the favor tenfold. The hold on her arms seemingly exploded with pressure, the dragon throwing his strength into his grip. Her bones creaked, giving way to snapping under the force and she felt her knees buckle as she couldn't help but let out a shrill scream, her mind going blank with pain.

" _CROWLEY!"_

* * *

The King of Hell had been in the middle of speaking with Castiel, going over his recent findings and discussing what else they should be doing to advance their search for Purgatory, when he heard her voice. Instead of the usual frequency where he could hear her as if she had spoken his name from just beside him, this one was a piercing scream that hit him like a spike to the brain. He staggered against the table and Castiel regarded him strangely at the unusual behavior.

"What's wrong?"

"Rosette…"

He ignored the angel as his mind raced, unaware that he had murmured her name. What was happening? Why would she call for him if she thought he had died? What, in Hell's name, made her _scream_?

There was the sense of icy fear rushing into his awareness and he knew it wasn't his own. Something was very wrong and he found himself unable to stand by. Without so much as a word to his partner-in-crime, he vanished.

It hardly took a thought for him to pin down her exact location. Her soul was a beacon of light to him, blazing in the darkness. Even if he was somehow blind, deaf, and dumb he would know her soul anywhere. It gave off such a particular resonance, it was impossible to confuse it for anyone or anything else.

They were on some rocky cliff side and there were two figures he didn't recognize, Rosette being held at the very edge by one of them. His anger and indignation flared to life and he scowled. How dare they put their hands on _his_ contract?

Her hair was slipping free from its bun, the red strands whipping around from the wind as her foot dared to slip at the edge. He could hear her whimpering as she still tried to fight back, a broken cry of pain escaping her.

One of the figures were chanting something ancient and before the demon could focus on deciphering, there was a deep rumble beneath the earth's surface. Rocks began to break away from the cliff's wall while the canyon floor broke open, releasing a burst of heat as molten lava bloomed forth. The other pushed Rosette closer, her heels just barely digging in to the precipice.

Crowley, still concealing his presence from the people, immediately reached out to grab her shoulder. He needed to get her out of there. There wasn't time to try to fight them and judging by the language and the blood that was dripping to meet the flames. He brought his other hand up to snap his finger but nothing changed.

The sigils.

"Those _bloody_ —" he hissed through his teeth. "Castiel! You get your arse down here, _now_!"

" _Castiel!_ " screamed Rosette in desperation. " _Castiel! Please!_ "

He couldn't so much as wonder if the reason she called for the angel was because she somehow heard him. The prayer hadn't even finished leaving her lips before she was pushed off the edge. It was as if his body was reacting in slow motion because he moved a beat too late, watching as her body vanished from sight as she fell. Her name tore itself from his throat.

" _ROSETTE!_ "

The girl screamed as she fell, unable to even work her arms to try and put them in front of her to as a form of defense. The fire raced toward and she could see the darkness beyond, slivers of sharp bone reaching out for her. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for anything to save her, because she felt whatever the dragon's plan was, it extended beyond a simple death.

She prayed for Crowley most of all, no matter how useless.

An explosion of force slammed into her side and she heard the rush of wings. She was duly aware of the feeling of ascension before it all fell away.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Gotta go, in Orlando, Florida and the storm's happening so we're going to lose power soon but I wanted to post this in case we're out of power for awhile. I hope you enjoy! I'll fix typos later, gotta go!**

 **Next time: French Mistake!**

 **Your thoughts would be love!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

It was like a blip of light vanishing in the flicker of an instant. Like she was never there.

The shock of the moment didn't quite register to him as he screamed her name, unaware of his own voice daring to tear his throat from the intensity. His body was reacting while his mind was struggling to understand what had happened. It was like a force had punched him right in the chest and he couldn't remember how to breathe. The monsters had thrown her from the cliff as she begged for Castiel to save her, the call a strangled cry.

She had screamed for the demon first, his name escaping her in a desperate prayer. _His_.

And he couldn't save her. The very sigils that were keeping her alive also prevented him from teleporting her to safety.

His body still refused to breathe.

 _Please…Rosette…!_

His head snapped up at the surge of heavenly energy and the monsters started to panic, one bolting back the way they came. He rushed to the edge and looked down at the molten floor, eyes frantically scanning for any sign of her. He could see the ground breaking, revealing splits of darkness, shards of Purgatory.

No sign of Rosette.

He dared to reach out and try to sense her soul, hoping that it was still nearby. That had to be Castiel who arrived, but was he fast enough?

There.

That glimmer of her soul was all he needed before he teleported away, allowing himself to be drawn to her light.

Castiel had landed a fair distance away, still safely covered by the dense woods. He looked down at the unconscious girl in his arms. Thankfully, he was already working on following Crowley after his strange and abrupt departure. He heard Crowley and Rose call out for him, both prayers ringing with desperation and that allowed him to pinpoint their exact location. He had to pour more power into flying faster as he saw the girl being bodily thrown from the cliff, his wings beating hard. Even then he only just managed to catch her before the void swallowed her whole, their bodies crashing with the contact as he pulled her upward.

He shouldn't have been surprised to see Crowley appear nearby a moment later. Somehow he was able to know that she was in danger even though she clearly didn't have access to any kind of summoning to call him. There was some type of bond between the two that was as mysterious as it was strong. Demons didn't develop any kind of connection with the humans they made deals with, which was why they, Crowley especially, referred to them as clients. It was strictly a business relationship. It was a crossroads demon's job to make deals with human. Make the deal, collect the soul. That was all.

So why was Crowley, the now King of Hell, so fixated on this one human?

The demon hurried up to him, not bothering with a greeting or explanation but instead kept his focus on Rose. His hand reached out and hovered above her chest and he could feel the demon's energy reach out, almost like he was doing some sort of diagnostic scan. He brought up his other hand and snapped his fingers. The bones that were broken were mended, but her eyes remained closed despite the sharp correction.

Before he could finish reaching out to her, his hand just a breath away from cradling her cheek, the angel spoke up.

"We should get her back to Sam and Dean."

The King gave a slight flinch at his voice, almost like he had forgotten that he was there and he quickly retracted his hand, burying them both in the pockets of his coat.

"Of course."

Once again, his voice was calm but Castiel could feel his energy giving off a…strange sort of radiation. Like back in the warehouse when he learned that Meg was possessing Rose, his outward appearance was collected but his demonic energy flared out in anger. This time the feeling was muddled but just as intense as before, if not more. Castiel gave a slight tilt of his head in thought. What was going on? He couldn't recall either one of them mentioning the other outside of a conversation's relevancy, so why were they so connected?

Perhaps he needed to pay more attention to them…they couldn't risk exposing their plan for Purgatory to anyone, include the boys and Rose.

Nothing was said between the two as Castiel disappeared, leaving Crowley alone in the woods. The demon waited a beat before concealing his presence and following after them. He had to make certain that she got back to the hunters safely. What if there was lasting damage from the monsters? He had to be sure. He wasn't going to leave it to chance.

It didn't take him long to catch up. They were at some low-budget motel and he couldn't help but shudder at what the possible thread count was on the beds. He tucked himself away in the corner of the room, watching the three men like a hawk.

The Winchesters were on their feet in an instant at the angel's arrival.

"Cas—"

"Rose!" The boys' words stumbled over each other but Castiel didn't say anything as he carefully lowered Rosette's lower half so that her feet touched the ground, bringing his now free hand up to touch her forehead.

With a surprised gasp, blue eyes blinked open. Disoriented, she had to cling heavily to the angel to find her balance again.

"C-Cas?" she muttered, looking up at him. Everything seemed to come rushing back to her as she hurriedly got to her feet properly and she threw her arms around his neck in a tight hug, making him take a step back to steady himself. "Cas!"

Oh, Crowley did not like _that_ one bit. He was actively restraining himself from revealing his presence. Taking a deep inhale through his nose, he forced himself to keep his anger in check. She didn't know that he had heard her first, that he was the one who reached for her _first_. The angel only came when they both called for him.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she told him, beyond grateful.

Again, the demon had to roll his shoulders as another flash of frustration made its way up his spine. If the angel's sigils hadn't been so exact, he would've been able to teleport her away from the danger. If he wasn't in hiding, then her arms would be around him. Not the bloody angel that made looking after her so difficult.

"You're, uh, very welcome," Castiel answered, giving her back a small pat in return.

Dean spoke up again.

"Sorry to break up the hugfest, but what the hell happened?!"

Rosette took a step back, standing on her own and rubbed her upper arm, seemingly unaware of the action. She was still shaking.

"The dragon grabbed me," she explained. "The next second we were out in the woods and they were—they were doing some sort of spell, I think."

"What would dragons need a spell for?"

Her expression tightened slightly, her tone carrying an edge while her strained nerves became more apparent. "I didn't really get the chance to ask—too busy being tossed off a cliff!"

"What?" yelped Sam, taking a step forward. "Are you all right?!"

She nodded, rubbing her arm again. "Yeah, Cas was able to grab me just in time…"

"But why would they need you for a spell?" asked Dean. "If anything, wouldn't they use the virgins they were collecting?"

An awkward silence filled the room as Rosette didn't answer or argue against his point. Her cheeks were slowly gathering color and Dean connected the dots first.

"You've got to be kidding me…" he muttered slowly in disbelief.

"Dean—" Sam tried to warn.

"There's just no way!" he argued. He turned to Rose next. "C'mon, Red, this can't be true."

Sam tried again. "Dean, it's none of our business—"

"—She was just kidnapped by dragons and chucked off a cliff, so yeah, it is our business!"

"He's right," Rose admitted before Sam could answer. "I-I'm sorry, but yeah, he's right…I should've told you—I thought I was helping, acting as a kind of bait…"

"But—how?" asked Sam, struggling to wrap his mind around the new information.

"Sam's right, you're beautiful," agreed Dean, gesturing to her. "Guys had to be fighting to get with you."

"W-well, that's very flattering—"

"Dean, we shouldn't pry—"

"Sam—"

Already tired of the arguing, she took a deep breath. "It was a part of my deal with Crowley!"

The boys went stock still before slowly turning to look at her due to her outburst, both wearing mirroring expressions of confused shock. Her mouth formed a tight line as her cheeks steadily reddened, the color nearly reaching the roots of her hair now. Unsurprisingly, Dean found his voice first.

"I'm sorry—did you just say your _virginity_ was a part of your deal with King Douchebag?"

She gave a small nod and kept her head down, not wanting to meet their gaze.

"What kind of friggin' dirtbag—!"

Sam held a hand up to stop his brother from laying into his rant. He turned to face the girl again, doing his best to keep his voice even.

"Rose, why was that a part of your deal? I've never heard of a demon wanting anything besides a human's soul," he asked.

Her blush deepened. "I…might've…offered…"

"Are you freakin' kidding me?!" Dean couldn't keep his silence. "How the hell could you offered something like that? To a demon?!"

"I was desperate!" she snapped back, doing her best to shove her embarrassment aside. "My sister was dying so I offered everything that I could—hell, I would've jumped off a freakin' bridge if he asked!"

Crowley watched the scene unfold with interest. He clearly recalled the desperation of the then sixteen year-old Rosette. He could smell the fear clinging to her as she summoned him to the empty place beneath the busy Chicago highway. Short red hair was blown every which way from the wind, cheeks pink from the cold, and blue eyes wide as she saw him for the first time. Even then, he could sense her soul with hardly a thought, the light seemingly reaching out to him. Almost like it was calling for him. He knew right then that he wanted her soul to be his. When he dared to leave her offer, she stepped up and sweetened the deal and who was he to refuse?

He could still remember the feeling of sealing her soul to him, like a fire springing to life deep within his chest, so bright it threatened to scorch him.

"Well, at least—the bright side is, you're free from your deal now," said Sam, trying to smooth over both of their remarks. "You don't need to worry about what you sold to him."

The demon sent a sharp glare to the tallest Winchester. He wasn't sure if he was extending her an invitation or simply trying to reassure of her newfound "freedom," but he would do well to keep his hands to himself. Their deal was between them and very much intact.

"That is all you offered him, right?" asked Dean, double checking.

Her voice was a low murmur. "…And eternal servitude…"

"Dude!"

"I was sixteen!"

* * *

Rose found herself back at Bobby's, pouring over his eclectic collection of literature. Sam and Dean had managed to snatch the dragon's journal and she and the older hunter were pouring over it, working on trying to decipher the language. It wasn't simply in another language or dialect, it was like a dead language written by another even more dead language. She couldn't believe she was wishing for Latin because even that had to be more recent than the scratches they were trying to pick apart. More often than not, she started and ended the day with a headache trying to make sense of monster linguistics.

She was back to holding down the fort when she was out-voted in going with the boys on the next case. Apparently, being cliff thrown was equivalent to hunter sick-leave as much as she insisted that she was okay. She would much rather be on the road and hunting with the brothers, at least that was a valid cover for her lack of sleeping. Maybe she wasn't entirely better from the dragon ordeal because her sleep schedule, already ragged, was shot. She was only able to grab a couple of hours a night. She couldn't tell if her mind was free from the visions of hell due to Crowley's death or if it was a permanent thing regardless of the status of her contract because even though he was killed months ago, the terrors remained. All she knew was that the nightmares didn't seem to be slowing down, but becoming more and more of a deluge of horror. What she was shown of Hell, the death of Crowley, the trauma of being possessed by the demon Meg coupled with the high intensity fear from when she was falling down toward Purgatory. Her imagination had a lot to work with and didn't seem to be letting up any time soon. After a few concerned glances from Bobby, she was sure to pick up a bit of concealer the next time she went into town so to help hide the shadows under her eyes.

When her phone rang and she saw Dean's name flash across the screen, she happily answered it so to take a much needed break from studying the journal.

"Thanks for calling Singer's Monster Stash, you stab 'em we bag 'em."

" _What do you know about Rhode Island?"_

A little bummed that her joke didn't get at least a chuckle, she gave a shrug.

"I'm a bit out of practice with my Rhode Island trivia—"

" _About Sam and Rhode Island. He's worked a case here before with Samuel, what do you know about it?"_

His tone was serious and she sat up straighter at her work area, all sarcasm and jokes shoved aside. Something from the past year?

"I'm afraid not much," she answered slowly. "I never worked cases with Samuel, he doesn't really like me, and Sam didn't talk about those cases. Why? What's going on?"

He gave a hard sigh. " _It looks like we've picked an old case of his. The monster's back in town."_

"What?" She was on her feet in an instant. "Dean, no, you guys shouldn't be there—if it's a case from last year, it's just going to be a battering ram on that wall!"

" _That's what I told him, but he's insisting on it. Cleaning up his own mess or something._ "

"I don't like it—this is a terrible idea. You've got to get him out of there. He was already having déjà vu last time just from looking at your dad's journal, who knows what will happen in a town where he's worked a job before."

He gave another hard sigh and she could imagine him running a hand over his face. The worry and anxiety was radiating through the phone call. She closed her eyes tightly, she didn't have to remind him of how temperamental the barrier was that Death put up. Dean was more than aware of what could happen if it came crumbling down.

" _I know. I'll keep you posted_."

"Thank you. First sign of anything, you two haul ass out of there. Please."

" _You got it._ "

"Be careful."

The call ended and she looked down at the now regular screen, her nerves beginning a frenzy, her stomach churning in response. She immediately felt useless, unable to be working on the same case, to try deter Sam from triggering any memories. At the very least, if the going got tough she was confident that she and Dean could tag team and drag Sam out of the town.

There was too much at stake if the wall came down and too many possible outcomes of what could happen to Sam. Paralysis, insanity, a million other mental traumas or even…maybe even death? Who was to say what could happen with the full brunt of memories from the Cage? There was no way for her to imagine what kind of terror Lucifer put Sam's soul through. Her nightmares only showed her Hell, but the Cage was a different monster entirely. Running her hands through her hair, she forced herself to take a few deep breaths to try to relax. Dean said he would keep her updated, so there was no use in worrying until she was properly given a reason to do so.

As time passed, she tried to focus on translating some of the dragon's journal. If she was productive then she would feel a little better about not being present to help with the Rhode Island case. At least she would be helping in some way.

The feeling of productiveness didn't last long. A couple days later there was another phone call from Dean, out of breath and talking quickly, he explained how they finished the case. It had been a trap all along for Sam due to how he conducted the case back when he was soulless, and the now-monster had wanted revenge. They finished everything as best as they could and when they were packing, out of nowhere, Sam collapsed and was unresponsive for a few minutes. The difference was Sam said it felt like a couple of _weeks_ to him, not minutes.

The time difference between Hell and Earth.

She wanted them to come back to Bobby's as soon as possible, to create distance from Rhode Island and to give Sam a chance to recover. When the boys got back in touch it turns out that they had picked up a random ghost case in New Jersey. Sam insisted that he was fine, tired but well enough. She was not a fan of that answer, but she couldn't just teleport and drag the two back by their ears to the safety of the older hunter's home. So it was back to waiting again, her _least_ favorite thing. She just felt so useless.

Then a few days later when she got another phone call, this time from Sam.

" _Hey, Rose…_ "

"Sam! Are you okay? What's going on?" She couldn't stop the questions from falling from her mouth. "Are you hurt? Is everything okay?"

" _I'm okay, I'm okay_."

"Oh, thank goodness…" Her shoulders sagged with relief, the tightness in her chest alleviating somewhat. Her hand was running through her hair again.

" _I just…wanted to check in_."

She raised a brow at his slightly-off tone. "…Sam, are you all right?"

" _Just, uh, had a case…it didn't work ou_ t," he explained, clearing his throat.

"Oh. I'm so sorry…" she said softly.

" _I just wanted, um, to say thank you. For everything_."

"Sam—"

" _No, really, let me say it._ " He took a breath _._ " _You have been nothing short of a godsend this entire time. You've died, learned to hunt, dealt with me being soulless and even been thrown off a freakin' cliff. I just wanted to say, thank you_."

She was rocked back onto her heels as fear and worry swelled within her chest at his words. Her hand dared to tremble as she held the phone up to her ear.

"Sam, you're scaring me…" she whispered, lips barely moving.

" _What? No, no, no, I don't mean to scare you,"_ he apologized. " _I just—I just wanted to thank you_."

"Sorry, it's just—heh," she gave a weak chuckle. "It just sorta sounds like the kind of thing people say before saying goodbye, is all…"

And god, she couldn't take another goodbye…

* * *

Thunder rumbled and lightning filled the sky while the rain poured. It had been quite some time since the last thunderstorm rolled through Sioux Falls. The study felt relatively cozy in comparison. The three were all gathered in the study, books strewn about more so than usual. Rose was at her usual perch while Dean took Bobby's desk. The aged lights gave the room a warm glow. Sam had just returned from a different part of the house, a stack of books in his arms.

"Where's Bobby?" he asked.

"Making a run to town," Rose answered, barely glancing up from her book. She was snug and comfortable in her chair, an old quilt tossed over her lap. Rainy days were great for any kind of reading, for leisure or research.

Sam nodded toward the obvious bad weather, the rain coming down in sheets against the window. "In this?"

"Man's a hero," said his brother, pouring the last of the whiskey into his glass. "We are officially out of hunter's helper."

There was another flash of lightning and the electricity seemed to crackle within the study, making the three go still. Next they heard the distinct sound of wings and they all turned to see an angel suddenly in the room with them.

"Balthazar?" Rose named, confusion evident. She hurried to her feet, the quilt falling to the ground, her book forgotten. "Are you all right?"

"Kind of you to ask," he answered. He gave a nod to the brothers. "Hello, boys."

Crossing the room, he started rifling through the various shelves and cabinets. Looking for what, he didn't say.

"You've seen _The Godfather_ , right?" he asked instead.

Obviously something was wrong. The last she remembered, back when she was tailing Sam when he was still soulless, the angel had plainly stated that he didn't like them because of their holy fire trap from way before. If he had to come to them that meant something had to be very wrong.

"When Michael Corleone sends his men to kill his enemies in one bloody swoop," he continued. She and Sam shared a confused look. What was with the movie references?

"Hey," said Dean, but Balthazar continued searching, placing a ceramic bowl down on the desk.

"Dead Sea brine. Good, good, good," he muttered, pouring the white substance into the bowl. "Then Moe Green gets it in the eye. Then Don Cuneo gets it in the revolving door."

"I said, hey," Dean repeated.

Balthazar stopped and looked directly at him. "You did. Twice. Good for you."

He gave the hunter a mocking pat on the arm before muttering to himself again. "Blood of lamb. Blood of lamb…"

He vanished, his voice sounding from the kitchen, items being moved around in the fridge. "Beer, cold pizza, blood of lamb. Yes! Blood of lamb."

"Balthazar, what's with the spell?" tried Rose.

Sam added. "And why are you talking about _The Godfather_?"

"Because we're in it right now. Tonight," he answered, zapping back to the study. "And in the role of Michael Corleone: the archangel Raphael."

"Raphael?" Rose repeated, stunned. "I thought he was stuck heaven-side because of the Sodom-and-Gomorrah stone you used on him?"

"Too right, darling. He was," he agreed. "But that only bought us time. Time, I'm afraid, that we've run out of."

Dean spoke up again. "Mind telllin' us what you mean?"

He poured the lamb's blood and set the jar down with a thud, still lost in his own thoughts. "No, no, no." He pulled out one of the desk's drawers, dumping out its contents. It wasn't until he broke it open and discovered a secret storage compartment when he gave them a victorious smile.

"Yes." He held up the small bag that contain a piece of human bone. "Bone of a lesser saint. This vertebra will do very nicely. Your Mr. Singer does keep a beautiful pantry."

"Wait, so Raphael is after you?" asked Dean. Balthazar broke the bone in his hand, crumbling pieces into the mixture.

"Raphael is after us all," he corrected. "You see, he consolidated his strength and now he's on the move."

"And where's Cas?" asked Sam.

Rose piped in, "Is he all right?"

"Oh, Cassie?" he said, bringing the bowl to the window. He began to paint some sort of sigil on the glass. "He is deep, deep underground. So, good old Raphie put out a hit list…on every last good Samaritan who helped our dear Cas. Including the three of you. And so much more importantly, me."

He went over the design again, making sure that the bloodwork was solid, giving a small cough. "See, he wants to draw Cas out in the open."

"You expect us to just believe you?" asked Sam.

"Wait, why wouldn't we? He hasn't been wrong yet," Rose asked, confused by the mistrust.

"Oh, don't," he countered easily. "You'll go where I throw you, either way."

Her head turned sharply at that. "Wait, _what_?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" demanded Dean.

The electricity started to crackle again and the angel perked up at the sound, glancing around.

"And that's all the time we have, lady and gentlemen." He set down the bowl and moved closer to them, patting his pockets. "Where is it?"

When he opened the jacket entirely, Rose gasped at the large blood stain on the left side of his chest.

"Balthazar! You are hurt!"

"Oh, garish, I know. Sweet of you to notice," he said. "You see, Uncle Raphie sent one of his nastiest to handle me. I'm flattered, actually. And down a lung, at the moment, but that's all right." He held out a small key with an orange bob out for Sam to take. "Here's for you."

"And what am I supposed to do with this?"

"Run with it."

There was a sudden surge and Balthazar was thrown across the room by something unseen, his body crashing into a bookshelf. There was the sound of wings again and a new figure stormed into the room, his black coat flaring out behind him.

"Virgil," named Balthazar, getting back to his feet. He looked to the hunters again, throwing his hand out toward them.

"I said, _RUN!_ "

Their feet left the ground as they were suddenly airborne and sent crashing through the large windows and into the storm.

Glass shattered and they landed on the ground with a thud. Rose landed mostly on Sam and the taller hunter was quick to change their positions so that he was partially on the balls of his feet, half leaning over her and she scrambled to all fours looking around wildly. It took an extra second to realize that the ground was strangely soft, which was weird because the salvage yard was anything but—

"Cut!"

The three flinched at the new voice and their surroundings seemed to fall into sharper focus, the adrenaline edging off enough for them to notice the other details. There were cameras and a team of people before them. Some were sitting with headphones while other people were hustling in the background, while big cameras seemed to be zeroed in on them. The people clapped as they got to their feet, Sam grabbing her jacket to pull her up a little faster and to keep her close.

"What's going on?" she whispered for them to hear. Sam gave a barely perceptible shake of his head.

"No idea," he breathed.

One man that was nearby gave Dean a hearty pat on the backside, the hunter visibly flinching at the contact. "Real good solid fall. Way to go."

"Jared, Jensen, Jane," shouted another man who was sitting in the center of the row, headphones around his neck. "Outstanding. That was just great."

Another person rushed up next to them with some kind of slate, announcing,

" _Supernatural_ , scene one, "Echo." Take one, tail slate. Marker."

A bell rang overhead and people began to swarm a little closer to them, not paying them any mind but more the scenery they seemed to be in front of.

"So…no angels?" guessed Sam.

Dean looked around. Really, no one was even looking at them. Everyone was busy with their own thing.

"No angels, I think."

"Should we be killing anybody?" he asked next.

"Or running?" added Rose.

Dean gave a half shrug. "I don't think so, and run where?"

They didn't dare to move, the people in the chairs talking amongst themselves. Rose picked up a piece of the broken glass, noticing the weird shine. The material had some weight but it was flimsy in her hand. She brought it up for the boys to see, giving it a shake to show that the window they had gone flying through was not glass, even though it distinctly felt like it in the moment.

The lights came up in brightness and she dropped the piece immediately, a man speaking into some kind of radio.

"That's a wrap on Jared, Jensen, and Jane."

"Who the hell are—?"

A woman suddenly appeared next to Sam's elbow. "Jared. Three minutes, okay? Great."

For such a small woman, she was able to pull Sam away at a brisk pace, the other two following behind.

"Where are we going?" asked Dean.

Another voice. "Jensen, there you are! Let's just get you in the chair."

Rose looked between the boys quickly going in different directions, her panic rising.

"Guys?!" she whispered sharply, not wanting to be left behind. She could still see Sam, the perks of having the Winchester be so tall, and she decided to follow him based on his visibility.

"Jane, over here!"

Another voice sounded and Rose found herself being steered in an opposite direction by some girl wearing a ball cap, a radio hooked to her belt and an earpiece in her left ear.

"I—uh—I don't—um—wh-what's happening?" she managed to stammer, trying to look back and keep the boys in her sight.

"C'mon, Mark just got in, I'm sure you're excited to see him!" the stranger chirped.

"Mark?" she repeated.

"Yeah, you told me to grab you when he got here, remember?" the girl continued. She brought her to a stop and gave a smile. "Wait here, 'kay? I'll be right back!"

Rose gave a weak nod, unsure. As soon as the girl was out of sight, she turned heel and booked it back to where she last saw the Winchesters. The stranger seemed nice enough but there was no way she was going to be left alone in whatever realm Balthazar threw them into.

Luckily, she nearly collided with Dean who was rushing back as well, she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket to keep from stumbling. Next, Sam hurried up to them and they formed a quick huddle.

"Hey—"

"Dude, they put freaking makeup on us!" hissed Dean, appalled. "Those bastards…"

"I know what this is," Sam continued.

"Oh thank god," sighed Rose. "What's going on?"

"It's a TV show."

Both she and Dean shared a similar look of annoyance.

"You think?"

"Wait, I mean, here, wherever here is…this _Twilight Zone_ Balthazar zapped us into," he tried to reason out. "For whatever reason, our life is a TV show."

" _What_?" Rose whispered in disbelief.

"More importantly, _why_?" added Dean.

"I don't know."

"No, seriously, why would anybody wanna watch our lives?"

"Well, I mean, according to the interviewer, not very many people do," answered Sam with a shrug.

Dean gave a shudder and started to walk, the other two following. Sam continued,

"I'm not saying it makes sense. We landed in some dimension…where you're Jensen Ackles…Rose is Jane York…and I'm something called a Jared Padalecki."

Dean looked incredulous. "So, what, now you're Polish? Is any of this making any sense to you?"

"Absolutely not," Rose piped in. The door squeaked open as they made their way outside. Even the outside was just as busy as the inside. Props being moved around, some partial set up, and everyone seemed to be hustling somewhere with a radio of their own.

"Oh," Dean sighed with relief. She followed his eyeline and sighed as well. Thank goodness, the Impala. He gave a nervous laugh, a smile daring to form. "Hey, at least my baby made it."

The laughter quickly died when some person walked up to it with a bucket and began to splatter mud onto the windshield.

"Hey. Hey, what—?" The words seemed to die in his throat as he turned to look and noticed an entire line of identical black, '67 Chevy Impalas, all in various stages of distress. She grabbed his arm as he dared to teeter backwards, his face turning ashy.

"I feel sick…I'm gonna be sick…"

They followed the eldest again as he tried to create distance between himself and the copies of his precious car.

"I wanna go home," he told them. "I feel like this whole place is bad-touching me."

"Yeah, I know. Me too," agreed Sam. She lengthened her stride to keep up with the two, (dang tall people, she huffed mentally) speaking up.

"What about Cas? Do you think he could hear us, wherever here is?"

Dean gave a nod. "It's our best shot, if he's still alive."

They gathered up again, Sam and Rose glancing around to keep watch while Dean bowed his head and prayed.

"Dear Castiel, who art maybe running his ass away from heaven…we pray that you have your ears on. Breaker…breaker…"

He tentatively opened his eyes and they looked around again. Just across the way they saw the ever-familiar trench coat wearing angel looking right at them.

"Cas? Cas, hey!" called Dean as they jogged over to him.

"Cas, thank god," sighed Rose in relief.

"What is all this? What did Balthazar do to us?" demanded Dean.

The angel gave a slow nod before delving into the explanation. "To keep you out of Virgil's reach, he's cast you into an alternate reality…a universe similar to ours in most respects yet dramatically different in others."

"Like Bizarro Earth, right?" guessed Dean. "Except instead of having Bazarro Superman we get this clown factory."

"Um…Yeah, well…Anyway, no time to explain. Do you have the key?" he asked.

Sam pulled the key from his pocket, handing it over. "Yeah. So, what does this thing do anyway?"

"It opens a room."

"What's in the room?"

"Every weapon Balthazar stole from Heaven."

Stunned, Rose asked, "And he trusted us with it?"

"To keep it safe, till I could reach you," Castiel answered. "With those weapons, I have a chance to rally my forces."

"Oh, okay. Good," nodded Sam. "Yeah. So now, what's the deal with all this TV crap?"

"Pardon?"

Dean scoffed, "Amen, Padaleski."

"Lecki."

"What?"

"Padalecki, I'm pretty sure."

Cas groaned, "Man, they put out new pages?"

They quickly looked to Castiel at the change in voice and saw him pull a packet of papers from his pocket, flipping through the first few. Rose's eyes grew wide. Was this—was this not Cas? An actor instead?

"New what?"

"Is this some kind of cosmic joke?"

"If it is, it's stupid and we don't get it," said Dean.

The girl quickly tugged on the back of Sam's jacket, making him glance down. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Not Cas…!"

"Are you guys okay?" Not-Cas asked, pulling the blue tie loose. Dean snatched the pages from him.

"Give me that. What is-?" His expression fell as he looked to them. "These are words in a script. This isn't Cas."

"But look at him!"

Rose nudged Sam in return. "Look at you, "Jared.""

Not-Cas unbuttoned the white shirt, revealing some blue shirt beneath. The casual behavior was bizarre on the angel's normal stoically well-composed demeanor.

"You guys wanna run lines or…?"

"His name's Misha," named Dean, looking at him in confusion. " _Misha_?"

"Oh, wow, just great," huffed Sam, snatching the key back from the fake-angel.

Dean thrust the pages back at him, the three walking past him.

"Misha? Jensen? What's up with the names around here?"

A laugh. "Oh. You guys, you really punked me! I'm totally going to tweet this one!"

Rose glanced back, raising an incredulous brow. What on earth?

"I just wanna dig my finger into my brain and scratch it till we're back in Kansas," muttered Dean.

They didn't have to go too far before Sam pointed out a trailer, reading the name on the door.

"Hey. J. Ackles."

Dean said, "That's fake me."

"Yeah."

"This must be fine mine."

"Well, let's go check it out, Mr. Ackles," Rose managed to joke.

She didn't have any expectations when they opened the door but she certainly didn't expect to be greeted by a very large aquarium as soon as they opened the door.

"Dude…I have a helicopter."

"Whoa," said Sam. "All right, who puts a 300-gallon aquarium in their trailer?"

"Apparently, Jensen Ackles."

Rose snorted, "Subtle."

"All right." Sam spotted the laptop on the table and took a seat opening it up. "Here we go. Let's see who we are."

"Well, not hunters but we play ones on TV."

Dean wandered over toward the television where his actor-self was performing, assumedly, an episode of _Supernatural_. It made her a little dizzy when she felt déjà vu when she watched the scene. She busied herself with twirling the random helicopter's blades to spare herself the headache.

"Look at these male-modeling sons of bitches," said Dean, holding up a magazine where the brothers were dressed in suits on the cover.

"Lookin' fancy there, boys," Rose teased.

"Nice Blue Steel there, Sam," added Dean.

He shrugged. "Hey, apparently it's our job."

A few more seconds of typing and Sam cleared his throat. "All right. Here it goes. Dean, it says you're from Texas."

"Really?"

Rose gave a little nod. "I could see that."

"And Rose, you are from Illinois."

"Well, go with what you know, I guess," she shrugged, unbothered.

"And, uh…you did some pin-up modeling work as well as acting…"

They both turned at that, the girl's voice rising in pitch. " _What?!_ "

Sam turned the computer around for them to see the variety of photos that filled the search page. Rose hurried forward, her jaw dropping in horror as she took in the seemingly countless photos of her in numerous outfits. Some that seemed like fashion, but others, like one of her holding a beach ball and looking over her shoulder cheekily, did not. The swimsuit wasn't as covering as she would ever be caught wearing, personally. Maybe if it was on someone else it would be cute but all she could notice was how exposed she was in the image. Good lord, they could see every curve of her body, and the bottoms didn't even cover her backside completely!

"Well, hello… whistled Dean. "Hey, if we're ever tight on cash—"

"What? No, no, _no_!" she vehemently denied, her face burning hot with a blush.

"Hey, you've got a nice—"

"Nope, nope, nope," she denied, quickly turning the computer back toward Sam. He gave a smile that he quickly tried to smother, typing again.

"And Dean, it says you were on a soap opera."

"What?"

"Thank you," sighed Rose. Sam played the clip, turning it back toward them.

" _Well, if I didn't have cancer…and I wasn't married, and I had plenty of money…would you wanna run away with me"_ came a simpering voice.

A much younger Dean voice answered. _"Money? You think I care about money, Nichole? I care that you're healthy."_

"Nice center part," Rose teased.

" _Well, I'm no quitter, Eric. I—"_

Dean quickly closed the laptop. "I don't like this universe. We need to get out of this universe."

"Yeah. No argument here."

"Seconded."

Abandoning the trailer, they made their way through the lots again, gravitating toward the Impala regardless of the mud. In a world where nothing made sense, they couldn't help but be drawn toward familiarity. The doors creaked as they all piled in, taking their usual seats with the boys in the front and Rose in the back. Dean already had a plan in mind. They were going to reverse-engineer Balthazar's spell. He already had the sigil drawn out, having watched the angel's every move and Rose recited each ingredient of the spell and the order he used them in. All they needed to do was collect the ingredients and get back to the window they were thrown through and perform the spell. Hopefully, that would send them back to their own world and not just into another one.

"All right, we go round up the genuine articles, ring them here for the spell." Dean stopped when the Impala started to make a sharp whining sound, like metal grinding. "What the hell is going on? What's wrong with this thing?"

A hand was knocking against the dirtied glass and Rose couldn't help but groan.

"Of course…it's a prop car…"

The staff member was breathless as they knocked, pleading for them to stop. "Mr. Ackles, please—Mr. Ackles, please stop."

"A freakin' prop…" The car was thrown into park as Dean dropped his hands against the steering wheel, frustrated. They all got out of the prop, much the staff personnel's utmost relief.

"Th-thank you. Thank you so much…."

Dean huffed. "How are we supposed to get out of here?"

* * *

Rose found herself sitting between Sam and Dean in the backseat of large van, shoulder to shoulder with the boys as they were driven past the studio gates. Driven, as in there was a person driving that was not either Winchester. He was a large, broad shouldered man who seemed pleasant enough but Rose decided that keeping her mouth shut was probably the best plan of action.

"You know whereabouts you want me to drop you off?" the stranger asked, glancing back at them in the rearview mirror. "Jane?"

Well, so much for that plan.

"Um…I was—I was, uh, planning on sticking with Jared and, um, Jensen actually…" she stammered, doing her best to remember both of the "real" names of the two.

"Really?" he asked, surprised. She felt the color drain from her face. Did she say the wrong thing?

"Because I thought you were going to stay over at Mark's place? Didn't you say he was stopping by today?"

Dean jumped into the conversation, for which she was incredibly thankful.

"We, uh, we were just going to tag along with, uh, Jared here…"

"Since when are you guys talking?"

"Yeah, uh, you know what, Clint," added Sam.

"Clif," he corrected, glancing back at them again. Dang it.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course. Clif, obviously," he tried to smooth over. "So I think we're gonna to go back to my place…and do some work…"

Dean jumped in. "Work on our acting."

"Yeah. Run some lines…" Rose added.

"For our characters. For the show." She gave Dean a little nudge to quiet him. A little too heavy handed.

"Yeah, all right," he chuckled, unbothered.

"Where the hell are we, anyway?" asked Dean. Before Clif had the chance to answer they passed an exit for Toronto.

Toronto frigin' Canada.

"Dude, we're not even in America…" Dean muttered darkly.

The car ride wasn't too long luckily, but Rose couldn't help but gape at the very large home they pulled up to. It was so large they had a front circle drive to drop off guest at the mansion's door. Both boys seemed equally floored.

"Nice modest digs, Jay-Z," joked Dean.

"Wow…I must be the star of this thing," Sam guessed. To which, Dean scoffed,

"Yeah, right."

They carefully stepped inside, doing their best not to upset anything. It was all hardwood floor, marble tops, duel chandeliers in the living room, and windows that reached all the way to the high ceilings.

"Is this a house or a cathedral?" wowed Rose, looking around. "It's too pretty to live here…"

Dean gestured to the side. "Check it out…"

They turned to look at the large grey device stationed to the side on the room. Her first thought was that it was a piece of medical machinery but when she caught sight of the matching set on the other side of the room it made more sense.

"What am I, Dracula?" wondered Sam.

"George Hamilton Dracula, maybe," said Dean, opening the lid.

"Who puts a tanning bed in their living room?" asked Rose, incredulous. "Is it a part of the seating arrangement? Like, "Welcome to my home. Have a seat on the sofa or the chair or perhaps you would like to recline in my metal death trap of light?""

This got a chuckle out of the brothers and some of the tension diffused.

"Oh. Now we're talking," said Dean, making his way over to the bar. Rose followed after him, in need of a drink as well. It had been a very long day and she would take any form of alcohol. A sound came from the backyard and she busied herself with pouring drinks while Dean went to go peek behind the curtain.

"Dude, you have a camel in your backyard."

A new voice sounded from above, making Rose choke with the drink she was already downing.

"It's an alpaca, dumbass."

All three whirled around at the sound and Rose was surprised to see a very pretty woman looking down from the balcony. She had dark hair in curls down her back and was wearing a form fitting black dress. The girl was made very aware that she mostly likely looked a mess in comparison with her messy hair and loose clothing. Not that it bothered her, but it just made it more apparent.

She didn't recognize the woman as she made her way downstairs, quickly looking between Sam and Dean who both looked completely gob smacked. "Guys…?"

"Ruby?" uttered Dean, gaze unblinking. They could hear her give a huff of annoyance.

"Ruby. Right. Because that one never gets old." Her heels clacked against the floor as she walked right up to Sam. "How was work today, hon?"

Rose did her best not to let a surprise yelp slip, covering her mouth with her hand as "Ruby" grabbed Sam by the front of his jacket and pulled him into a kiss. She sent Dean a more than confused look but he simply returned the expression, lost as well.

"Wait…you and Ruby?" he dared to ask, looking to his brother.

"Do you honestly think that's funny, Jensen?" "Ruby" sighed, annoyed still.

"Right," he said slowly, their reality settling in. She was an actress, Ruby wasn't a real person. "Right. Because you're not Ruby. You…I mean, how could you be? You…Of course, you are the lovely actress who plays Ruby. And you are in Jared's house…"

Rose noticed a large framed photo on the mantel and her eyes widened at the very white dress which could only mean one thing. She gave Dean a sharp nudge, glancing toward the picture for him to notice.

"…because you two are… _married_?" He lowered his voice. "You married fake Ruby?"

Sam looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened even further if it were possible. "Ruby" looked at them all incredulously as she took a seat on the edge off the sofa.

"What are you doing?"

"Work," croaked Sam. "Work. Heh."

"Yeah. Just thought we'd pop in," Dean fake-laughed, throwing an arm over Rose's shoulder. "Say hey."

"Hi," smiled Rose.

"And-and-and, uh, maybe run some lines."

"Ruby" still gave them a strange look. "You've never even been to our house. Neither of you."

A small pause as Dean managed to find some words.

"Well, now that I know there's an alpaca, I'm definitely coming back."

That seemed to be the right thing to say as she gave a little smile.

"Well, alpacas are the greenest animal."

"And that's so…great," Rose managed to smile with a nod.

Dean nodded too. "Right. Right. That is so important."

She got to her feet and smoothed out her dress. Her gaze found Rose's and the girl went still.

"Oh, Jane, I thought you we supposed to meet up with Mark today?" she asked curiously. "Was his flight delayed or something?"

"I believe so, yeah." The words fell out of her mouth without much thought, much to her relief. The perks of learning to be a hunter included a crash course in lying. "I'm—I'm sure we'll catch him tomorrow…"

"Oh good. I know he's excited to see you," she smiled. Rose returned the expression, trying her best not to let her confusion show.

"Ruby" turned her attention back to Sam. "Well, there's that thing I have to get to."

Sam nodded in agreement. "Oh, yeah, of course. Yeah, the thing…"

"The International Otter Adoption charity dinner?" she reminded him.

"Oh."

"Okay, well…" She pulled Sam in for another kiss and Dean and Rose quickly averted their eyes. "Well, I'm glad you guys are talking, anyway."

The three were silent until the front door closed behind her, Dean speaking first to Sam.

"Well…looks like you did all right."

"Yeah," he laughed nervously. "I should figure out her name."

Rose gave a sigh as well, running her hand through her hair again.

"And who the hell is Mark? She's the third person to mention it since we've been here."

Dean gave a laugh. "Sounds like you have a boyfriend."

"I highly doubt that," she argued, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous idea while her pulse dared to flutter.

* * *

That evening was actually productive as they managed to order the ingredients that they needed for the spell online. Originally they were going to drive to Mexico City to steal the bone of a lesser saint before Sam suggested that they simply buy the item using their doppelgangers' credit card. It seemed like a ludicrous thought, but when Jared Padalecki's credit card was approved for a purchase for over a hundred thousand dollars, it didn't seem so crazy. The items were approved for a triple rush, early morning pick up the next day at the airport. So with the ingredients bought, Rose and Dean camped out in the living room. The hunter stretched out on the nice couch and she curled up in the armchair for the night. The house was nice, but it made her miss the comfort of Bobby's study, the coziness.

Obtaining the ingredients seemed to be the easy part of their day. Clif drove them to the airport to pick them up and brought them back to the set. They hurried to the area that was made to look like the study and started to lay out the items. Before they could even so much as open the parcel containing the bone of a lesser saint, the area lights were flipped on and voices sounded. Dean quickly broke away to try and talk to the older gentleman holding a cup of coffee and she and Sam quickly gathered the ingredients and took them away from the set.

They found chairs with their "names" stitched into the material and they had only just sat down when Misha, "Castiel," took the seat next to Rose. He had one earbud in and a cup of coffee and he gave a nod toward the box sitting in Dean's chair.

"Oh, priority. What's in it?" he asked.

"I bought part of a dead person," deadpanned Sam, not even glancing at him. Misha looked to Rose and she gave a little laugh and a shrug.

"He's, uh, he's kidding," she stuttered, trying to come up with some kind of cover. "They're, um, they're special…coffee beans…"

"Coffee beans? Really?" he asked. "Where from?"

"…Mexico City…" she couldn't stop the lie from floundering. "It's known as the coffee…capital of the world…"

Thankfully, Dean rushed over to them.

"Um…so, bad news. Uh," he gave a nervous laugh. "Looks like we're gonna have to do a little acting."

Rose paled immediately, her voice a sharp whisper. " _What_?!"

She didn't know how it happened but they were all standing in the study again. She had been placed over an X mark just behind Sam and to his right, while he and Dean were next to one another and Misha/Castiel stood at the forefront wearing the tan trench coat again. Rose tried to keep herself from shaking, her palms sweating as she stared back at the large cameras that were focused on them.

Back home, back in the days before the end of the world, she did dabble in some theater in high school and community college. But that was voluntary. There was time to prepare, to memorize, to settle the nerves and the potential stage fright. With the large camera lenses seemingly staring, she felt those age old nervous butterflies start up again as her mind went blank.

" _Supernatural_ , scene 36, take one. Marker."

"Action."

Misha stepped forward, his voice lowering to Castiel's normal tone.

"Balthazar is no hero," he said. "But he knows Raphael will never take him back."

He turned back around to face them and she saw Sam flinch and Dean stepped forward. He moved again and then stepped to the left.

"Cut!"

The bell rang to signal that they had stopped rolling.

" _Supernatural_ , scene 36, take eight. Marker."

"Action."

Misha started from the top again. "Balthazar is no hero. He knows Raphael will never take him back."

She could see Sam start to move his arms and Dean's stiff shoulders as he moved forward again. She carefully took a small side step to the left, to hide behind Sam more. Dean glanced down at the paper in his hand.

"Dean grimly. And yet somehow you got no problem with it."

"Cut!"

The bell again.

The sound of the marker, followed by, "Action."

Sam tried next, "That's because…that's because we have no other choice."

"Don't look at the camera," muttered Dean. "Look anywhere but the camera."

He lifted his eyes to the ceiling, trying again. "That's because we have no other choice."

"Cut! For the love of—"

Rose lost count of how many times the bell rang or the marker snapped. They had to keep resetting and she was moved back to the X so that she was visible to the camera.

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she recited her line. "So…how—how can we get the key?"

"If there's a key…" Sam brought one arm up stiffly. "Then there must also be a lock…"

"Cut."

Bell. Marker.

"Action."

She shuffled forward. "How….how can we get the key?"

"If there's a key…then there has to be a lock," tried Sam again, bring up both arms. "And when we find the lock, we can get the weapons. And then we can have the weapons. And the lock. We'll have a lock, I imagine…because we opened it and the key that opened—"

Suddenly, Dean was growling. "We need to get all of that crap."

"What're you doing?" Rose dared to whisper.

"That's how he does it," he shrugged, nodding to Misha.

"Oh."

Dean turned to the people watching, hopeful. "Do we really need all these lines? I mean, I-I-I think we've covered it. Hey?"

"Cut!" The bell rang. "What is happening?"

They rushed back to their chairs and poured over the wrinkled copy of the script Dean had gotten ahold of somehow.

"Oh thank god, I hardly have any lines."

"Lucky you," Dean grumbled.

Sam grabbed the script next, scanning for his lines. "Who wrote this? Nobody says "penultimate."'

"What are you, some kind of thesaurus?" asked Rose incredulously, looking over his shoulder.

"Gun, mouth, now."

The bell rang again and somebody announced, "Moving on."

They couldn't get out of the chairs fast enough, leaving Misha behind to type on his phone.

The study scene was cleared and they started to get the spell together in the large bowl.

"Dead Sea brine. Blood of lamb. Bone of a lesser saint," muttered Rose as she worked the ingredients quickly and efficiently. "That's it. Your standard angel spell of alternate realities."

"Not exactly the spell for the hunter on a budget," quipped Sam.

Dean took the bowl and began to paint the sigil on the window again. He took his time and when he finished, it was clearly drawn and looked identical to the one Balthazar had made.

"That's it?"

"That's it, Toto."

Setting the bowl down on Bobby's desk, they stepped to the back of the study and lined up. Shoulder to shoulder, they faced the window and prepped themselves. Without a countdown, they all began to sprint forward. Not bringing her arms up to protect her face, instead, she made sure to grab onto one of the boy's jacket to keep them together just as she closed her eyes. They crashed into the window and the glass shattered upon impact and for a split second, she thought they made it.

When she hit the ground hard, this time landing on Dean since she had grabbed him, it was obvious that the spell didn't work.

"Oh, that one hurt…"

Groaning heavily and elbow aching from her poor landing form, Rose separated from the boys to pick up an ice pack to soothe the sharp pain. How hard could it be to find a little first aid kit or some ice and a plastic bag?

After a little bit of searching, she sighed and decided to ask the next person she saw. The sooner she could get back to the boys, the better. Almost as soon as she had the thought, a person stepped into her peripheral vision and she turned, already speaking,

"Excuse me—"

Her words died in her throat and she forgot how to breathe as she stared at the person she reached out to stop. She was stunned and her mind was going blank. It took her a moment to recognize him because she never saw him in casual clothes. Gone was the overcoat and the suit in all black, but the man remained the same in the band t-shirt and jeans.

"Hello, darling."

She could hardly hear him as she openly stared at him, her heart beating wildly in her chest, almost drowning out the sound of his voice. He was right in front of her, she could stretch her arm out and touch him. She took in every feature of his face, every line, any details she could take in, searing it into her memory.

His brow furrowed in concern.

"Are you all right there, love?"

 _Crowley._

The world forgotten, she couldn't stop herself from moving forward and her arms were around him in a crushing embrace. Burying her face in his shoulder, she didn't care that he was rocked back from her force or that her shoulders shook.

"Well, hello to you too," he chuckled. His arms looped around her and she felt him return the embrace easily, his hands against her back.

He was alive. He was with her right in that moment. No longer the ash from Castiel's holy fire. No more screaming in pain. Not a twisted nightmare her mind conjured night after night. He was alive and in her arms right then—

"Jane? You're shaking. Are you okay?"

Like the window breaking, clarity shattered her thoughts into unrecognizable pieces as she went completely still. Jane. Not Rosette. Her throat grew tight with emotion and she clenched her jaw tightly, trying to keep a lid on the emotions surging within her chest.

This wasn't really Crowley. It was simply the actor who portrayed him on the show. This wasn't the demon she knew since she was sixteen. He may look and sound like the King of Hell, but he wasn't—he wasn't _her_ Crowley.

God, why did that hurt more?

"I…I'm good…" she whispered. Slowly, she released the hug and took a step back, her lips struggling to form a tight smile as well as keep the tears at bay. "S-sorry. Didn't—didn't mean to surprise you…"

"Always a pleasant surprise," he answered with a smile of his own. "It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

She gave a stiff nod. "Yeah…yeah...you could say that."

"Well, I know you're busy today, but I'm glad I got to steal you for a moment," he smiled. She tried to return the expression, but her body was doing everything it could to keep from breaking down. Her heart wanted to sing at the sight of his smile while her mind knew that it wasn't for her. It was for Jane, whoever that was to him, Crowley's actor.

"How about we grab some coffee after today's shooting so that you can bring me to speed about what's going on around here?" he suggested, his hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans.

"Yeah. 'Course," she agreed. "That—that would be nice."

Another smile. "I'll see you after then, darling."

She managed another tight smile as he continued on his original path. Before she turned around, she noticed someone call out to greet him.

"Hey, Mark! How's it going?"

Her heart gave a lurch at the reveal of his name. Taking one more look at his retreating figure, she wondered what his relationship was with her, this Jane York. What did everyone seem to know that she didn't? If numerous people noticed that had to mean it was something pretty forward, right?

Turning around and going back the way she came, she didn't have much time to reflect further on the thoughts as she caught back up with Sam and Dean, her aching elbow long forgotten.

"Hey, Red," greeted Dean, waving her over. She wordlessly joined them walking across the staging area. "So maybe we can't get out of Earth Number 2 right now, but we could at least get the hell out of the Canadian part. If I hear one more conversation about hockey, I'm gonna puke."

They came to a kind of split in the road, a random brick fixture.

"Wait a minute. This way, this way," guessed Sam, going to the left.

Dean doubled back. "No, no, no. It's this way."

"This looks like sewers where we fought the dragons," noticed Rose, following him.

"No, Dean, I really think that we should—" Sam's voice suddenly sharpened. "—Rose!"

Whipping her gaze forward, Rose was startled to see the angel Virgil standing directly before her on the next level of the walkway.

"You think you can run?"

He moved quickly and she was dimly aware of the boys shouting "No!" as his palm connected with her forehead.

When her vision wasn't blinded by white light, he brought his hand back in confusion. Remembering how to breathe again, she managed a weak smirk as Dean grinned.

"Sorry, dude. Mojo-free zone."

The oldest Winchester threw the first punch, sending Virgil stumbling backwards, dropping to a knee. Sam and Rose immediately followed Dean onto the next level of the grated walkway.

"No magic in the house," said Sam.

"Which means you're nothing but a dick," Rose snarled.

Dean punched him again and Virgil was steadier on his feet now and was able to return the hit as well. Purely based on numbers, the hunters had the advantage. They worked together like a well-oiled machine. Dean, Sam, Rose. Dean, Sam, Rose. The angel took hit after hit as they circled him, taking turn with their strikes. Virgil fought back, swinging hard at them but he landed mostly glancing blows, if any due to their numbers and speed.

Sam managed to get behind him and lock his arms under Virgil's, keeping him from swinging back. This allowed Dean and Rose to use him as a punching bag. He took the high hits while she took the low. She would pull back and he would punch and vice versa, working as a pair. They weren't cutting the angel any slack.

They didn't get to lay into him for too long because the staff members flooded the scene and quickly tore them apart, allowing Virgil to drop to the ground, free.

"No, no, no!"

"Stop! Stop!"

"Stop—you don't understand!"

"No, no! You are dead, Virgil!"

"Get off of me!"

"Let me go!"

The angel took off down the path, his footsteps heavy against the grates as they continued to struggle against the staff, their voices overlapping and bouncing throughout the set as they shouted after him.

"We'll break your freaking neck!"

"Die!"

* * *

The studio team breaking up the fight didn't deter them for long as they circled back to Bobby's study set up. It was the best place to start looking for clues about how Virgil got through to the other universe as well. At least the rules of the new universe applied to him as well and he didn't have his angel powers. Thankfully, otherwise she would be angel toast by then.

Since it was later in the day, Rose was designated to keep watch while the boys ventured back into the study. The last thing they needed was the staff interfering again. She was still irritated that their fight was interrupted. The angel she had never met before tried to kill her on sight. That was grounds enough for her to start throwing punches.

"Ah, there you are."

She turned quickly at the new voice and she was very surprised to see a man jogging up to her. He was tall with blonde hair, sporting a leather jacket and he gave a smile as slowed to a stop.

"It's been pretty crazy around here, huh?" he chuckled. Rose didn't know what to say as she looked up him, confused.

"Y-yeah, you could say that…"

Her pulse skittered when she was drawn into a hug, her nose buried in his jacket as he held her close. When she made to lean back and look up, her lips were captured by the stranger's. Heart pounding wildly, she didn't know what do as she was pulled tighter into the embrace. Closing her eyes tightly, she tried to force herself to relax. There wasn't anything malicious about the man's intent, but she was so confused by the affection. Not to mention how foreign it was to have somebody kiss her. The last kiss she could clearly recall had felt like a much welcomed fire in her soul. This one made her feel cold, a chill dancing along her spine in comparison.

Finally, the kiss broke and he gently bussed her forehead with his, arms still easily around her.

"I've missed you," he whispered. "I know we've been busy, but I had to see you. Hope you don't mind me crashing the set."

"I—I suppose not…" she answered breathlessly. He leaned closer and her back pressed against the set wall as she looked up at him, trying desperately to figure out who he was exactly. He looked vaguely familiar, like someone she noticed while passing by them on the street, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

He brought one hand up and gently brushed her cheek with his thumb. She didn't know what to say to him as he gazed down at her fondly. All she could think of was how much she missed Crowley's warm touch, how she ached for the demon, and how she wished that it was him looking at her with such affection. Her chest grew tight with emotion as she struggled to find joy in the stolen moment. It wasn't hers, it was Jane's. This man didn't hold any part of his heart for her, but her actress counterpart instead.

"What's got you so blue, Janie?" he asked softly. "You're awfully quiet today."

She tried to give a smile, lips twitching. "Sorry…just kinda in my own head today, I guess…"

A staff member called out to the man from across the room, giving a big wave for him to see.

"Hey, Mark! Could we borrow you for a moment?"

She looked up at him. So this was the Mark that everyone was referencing. Here she had been hoping for some sort of parallel between her and Crowley to be reflected with her actress and his actor, but that was clearly childish wishful thinking on her part. And what exactly was she hoping was mirrored? She and Crowley never discussed their connection beyond her soul's contract. They never said anything but it felt like it went beyond a simple business transaction…

"Do you mind?" asked Mark softly. "I can be right back if you'd like?"

She gave a reassuring smile. "No, no, you're fine. It's probably some, uh, big important actor thing, right?"

He chuckled at her description. "Definitely can't miss the big important actor things. Hey, maybe they're working me into next season or something? It'd be fun to come back, don't you think?"

"A-absolutely..."

Mark bent down and kissed her gently again, his mouth soft against hers.

"I'll catch you later, Janie."

With a wave, he made his way toward the person calling for him. Just in time, as Sam came rushing out of the study. His breathing was uneven and tone worried.

"Hey, do you have the key from Balthazar?"

"What? No, he gave it to you, remember?" she answered, patting her pockets to make sure. Nothing.

"Dammit. Virgil."

"Shit."

Sam grabbed Dean and they were taking off again. Fortunately, in a world without magic, Virgil couldn't get away so easily. He was just as stuck as the rest of them.

They doubled back to "Jared's" place and had hardly made it through the front door when Gen/Ruby gave a horrified shriek. When she managed to work her words, she broke the news that Misha had been stabbed to death. They all shared a look and immediately asked, in sync,

"Where?"

The murder had happened in some random alley and the authorities were still covering the body, a red stain appearing on the white sheet where his throat was slashed. Luck seemed to be on their side as there was a witness to the crime.

"Yeah, yeah. The scary man killed the crying attractive man," explained the homeless man who saw it happen. "And then he started to pray."

"He prayed?" asked Rose.

He nodded, looking more apprehensive. "Yeah, and the strange part…after a while, I swear I heard this voice answering…"

"What'd it say?" asked Sam.

"Y'know, it didn't make any sense…" He gave his head a shake.

"Try us," encouraged Dean. The man took a second to gather his wits before repeating what he heard,

"The voice said for Virgil to return tomorrow…at the place where he crossed over at the time of the crossing. And Raphael would reach through the window and take him and the key home."

They shared a concerned look at the news, all their faces grim. They were running out of time and fast.

Dean took out a couple of Canadian bills and gave them to the man for his time and information. "Thank you."

When he had walked out of earshot they huddle up again, Rose speaking up first.

"So apparently blood magic still works here."

Sam was next, "If Virgil gets back with that key, Cas is dead and our world is toast."

"Well, then we stop him," he answered easily enough. "I mean, how bad can an angel with no wings be?"

"…I feel like that might just jinx us," muttered Rose worriedly.

* * *

The next day they were back on set in Bobby's study, pacing the room.

"You know, if we drop Virgil, get the key…" said Dean. "I mean, this might be it. We might be stuck here."

Rose's nerves fluttered at the thought, dread steadily dripping through her body.

"We can find a way back," she said in return. "We know that big magic, blood magic, works here. If this doesn't pan out we can work something else out."

"She's right," agreed Sam, leaning against the door frame. "We'll figure out a way back."

Dean gave a shrug. "Yeah, you wouldn't be that broken up if we didn't, though."

"What? Don't be stupid."

"Well, I'm just saying, no Hell below us, above us only sky."

"Dean, our friends are back there."

"Yeah, but here, you got a pretty good life," continued Dean. "I mean, back home, the hits have been coming since you were six months old. You gotta admit, being a bazillionaire, married to Ruby? The whole package. It's no contest."

"But these aren't real relationships," Rose couldn't help but chime in. "These people, they've known Jared, Jensen, and Jane, the actors. We haven't spent any time with them—we're the characters they emulate on TV. We're fictional. We would have to—have to start over and try to become them or find some sort of middle ground, living their lives."

Sam nodded in agreement.

"You're right. Dean, it's like you said, we just don't mean the same thing here. I mean, we're not even _brothers_ here, man."

A tense silence filled the room as everyone mulled over the possibilities of what could happen very shortly. To live in a world where they didn't even really exist. Where Sam and Dean weren't related, where angels and demons didn't exist, to be honest, it wasn't a world Rose wanted to stay in.

"All right then," said Dean. "Let's get our crazy show back home."

It didn't take Virgil long to make his reappearance. They could hear the gunfire before they saw him focusing on shooting every staff personnel on sight. She skidded across the floor, raising her voice in a shout. The perks of being a vivid redhead, she was always a good distraction.

"Hey! Douchebag!"

When he brought the shotgun up to her level, she just managed to dodge and the glass shattered behind her. She caught sight of Sam and Dean tackling him in a team effort and they plowed through the nearby set's wall, crashing through it with their combined force and weight. Hurrying around, she threw open the door to reveal a motel room design and the three tangled in a fight. Hesitation far from her mind, she threw herself into the midst of the scuffle, doing her part to knock the angel off balance. His knees buckled and she threw herself at his chest, using her entire weight to bring him down and she drove her knees into his lower stomach. Dean continued to punch him as she and Sam fumbled with his pockets looking for the key. Sam snagged the orange fobbed key.

"Got it!"

Virgil was unresponsive as they got to their feet and she felt the faint stirring of magic and she whirled around to see the sigil glowing eerily on the window's glass.

"Guys!" she cried out, her face pale. "Raphael!"

"Run!"

Sam just managed to grab the sleeve of her jacket as they tried to run, but the force yanked all three of them clean off their feet and they were sent flying into the window again.

The hard, unyielding pavement met them without remorse and she could feel the glass shards digging into her palms. That certainly was a fair reminder that they were no longer on a television set. All three of them groaned from the landing and tried to get up as quickly as they could, staying close together. Ignoring the glass, she curled her hands into fists as she tried to set her stance.

The woman was wearing a crisp black suit and a smirk as she stepped toward them, speaking coolly.

"You three…have the strangest luck."

"Raphael? Nice meat suit," guessed Dean. When she didn't answer, he added, "Dude looks like a lady—"

She brought up her hand and clenched her fist.

Immediately, Rose felt a crushing pressure within her chest cavity. Lungs compressing, bones crunching, blood burning, it all brought Rose to her knees as she gasped, her nails digging into her chest. She heard the boys groan and heave from the pain, Sam on all fours and Dean supported by the window's edge.

"The key," hissed Raphael.

She spotted the small key by the angel's feet and Rose tried to reach out to grab it, but her bones screamed in protest and the angel snatched it up easily while she dropped fully to the ground.

"And that will open you a locker at the Albany bus station," said a familiarly snarky voice.

The pressure was gradually released and they managed to stagger back to their feet, Dean grabbing the back of her coat to help her up entirely.

Raphael didn't allow her (his?) emotions to flicker across their face. "Really?"

"I needed a modest decoy to make it more convincing," he explained.

"Give me the weapons," Raphael demanded.

"Sorry, darling. They're gone."

This seemed to irritate the archangel, her tone increasingly sharp.

" _What_?"

"I said, too bloody late," he reiterated. "You see, they were so well hidden that I needed time to find them. So, I volunteered these three marmosets for a game of fetch with Virgil."

He seemed to notice their combined looks of exhausted frustration and tacked on,

"You three were such an adequate stick. Thank you."

"You've made your last mistake," seethed Raphael, unamused by his flippancy.

"Oh, I've got a few more up my sleeves, _honey_."

Her shoes clacked against the pavement as she moved toward him, raising a hand to strike him down.

"Step away from him, Raphael." Castiel's voice sounded with authority as he appeared on the scene.

"I have the weapons now. Their power is with me."

There was a flash of lightning and Rose could see the shadow of wings unfurling behind him in the sharp light. Chills raced up and down her spine at the sight, leaving her breathless. In the back of her mind, despite everything she knew, she couldn't help but think, _He really is an angel…_

"Castiel," sneered the archangel. He marched toward her, unafraid.

"If you don't want to die tonight…back off."

There was the sound wings and the spot where Raphael had been standing was completely vacant.

"Well, Cas…" began Balthazar, stepping toward his fellow angel, "…now that you have your sword, try not to die by it."

He was next to leave and Castiel moved toward them as Sam tried to ask,

"Cas, what the hell—?"

The world shifted as they were teleported back to Bobby's study. The room was exactly as they left it. The large window broken, the storm still raging, the blanket on the floor by Rose's chair and their books' still open.

"Wait. Wait, you were in on this?" asked Sam. "Using us as a diversion?"

"It was Balthazar's plan," he answered, his back facing them. "I would've done the same thing."

"That's not comforting, Cas," scolded Dean.

"You could've just asked us," added Rose. "We want to help you, Cas."

He turned around slowly. "When will I be able to make you understand? If I lose against Raphael, we all lose everything."

"Yeah, Cas, we know the stakes. That's about all you've told us," snapped Dean.

He was quiet for a moment before speaking again.

"I'm sorry about all this. I'll explain when I can."

"Cas—!" But Rose's plea went unheard as the angel vanished as well, leaving the three hunters alone. She sighed sadly.

"I don't understand. What's going on that's keeping him from explaining?"

"Frigging angels."

Sam slowly walked over to the doorway and slammed his hand against the frame, resulting in a dull thud. He tested it twice more before releasing a hard breath.

"Solid. It's real."

"Nice. Real, moldy, termite-eaten home, sweet home," agreed Dean. "Chock full of crap that wanna skin you. Oh, and…we're broke again. Unless Red here wants to take up modeling—"

"Hell to the no."

Sam gave a dry laugh. "But, hey…at least we're talking."

* * *

 **REVIEW! Lots happening this chapter! Some recap from last time with some Crowley and Castiel insight and the joys of the French Mistake! Such a fun episode! It is a bit long but with the season building up, this is going to be the theme for the next 3 to 4 chapters until season 6 wraps up, I think.**

 **Hurricane update: we lost power the night I posted the last chapter (Sunday) and we got it back Wednesday. Thankfully, we didn't sustain any physical damage to our apartment or vehicles.**

 **Second life update: I won't be able to get started on the next chapter for a couple weeks because I'll be traveling back to Illinois to get married October 7** **th** **!**

 **When I get back I'll start on the next one because it's been a long time coming and I think you'll all enjoy it. Next chapter will include updates from the in-between episodes as well.**

 **Next time: Frontierland!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed! Your thoughts would be love!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Sixteen**

* * *

"Look, it's here somewhere. Help me move this."

Sam and Bobby worked together to move the heavy oak desk to the side, the scraping sound echoing. The four of them were currently snooping around Samuel Campbell's old basecamp for a hidden library of books that the Campbells collected over the years.

A lot had happened since the encounter with the dragons and being thrown into an alternate reality by Balthazar. They were able to find out the spell the dragons had tried to use Rose for was to summon the Mother of All, Eve. The title was entirely appropriate as she was the mother of all monsters, the one who create the Alphas, each the first of their kind. The dragons had summoned her from Purgatory and now she was walking on Earth. She had even lured them into a kind of trap along with Bobby's friend Rufus as well as Samuel and Gwen.

That encounter had been a nerve racking mess for the group of hunters. Eve had created a new monster that could crawl into a person's brain and control them, mostly forcing them to kill. It had gotten ahold of Dean which led to the unfortunate death of Gwen. Next it had gotten into Samuel which was a whole other mess. Samuel had managed to rig traps and separate Rose and Sam from the rest of the group. It didn't take long for them to come across Samuel again and he started to approach them, going on about how he and Sam were family, how he was the younger hunter's namesake. Sam held his ground, gun pointed right at him and told him to stay where he was, to stop.

" _C'mon Sam. I'm your grandfather. Let's get this girl out of the way and we can talk."_

He kept on moving closer and closer despite the repeated warnings and finally Sam pulled the trigger. The bullet struck the center of his forehead and Samuel dropped to the ground, dead. After hearing the gunshot, the others were able to find them and when they couldn't confirm if anything crawled out of Samuel's ear they were marked as suspicious. They saw the black goo earlier but when he was later shot, nothing had happened. As a precautionary measure, they used zip ties to act as handcuffs for Rose and Sam because they couldn't prove Samuel was possessed and they weren't. They knew they were clean but there wasn't a way to prove it so they quietly accepted the cuffs as they waited.

Bobby and Rufus called every contact they could to try and figure out the body snatching monster and how to kill it. When Bobby broke out the cranial saw they kicked the younger hunters out of the room to spare them the sight of cracking into the boys' grandpa. While there was no love lost, they still stepped out.

The peace didn't last long as they soon heard commotion break out. Rushing to the door, they were met with Samuel blocking the door handles, thus acting as a kind of deadbolt. How he was up and moving, they could only figure that the monster had been lying in wait for the moment where they lowered their guard. He gave a sick grin before turning back to fight with Bobby and Rufus. Dean was able to cut Sam and Rose free and with their combined effort, they were able to kick the door open on the first try. The fighting had come to an end with Samuel's body being thrown onto a live wire, electrocuting him while the other two were knocked down, stunned.

While it was a relief that Samuel was down for the count again, it brought up a new problem. Where was the monster?

They worked out that electricity would be the deciding factor and they brought out the live wire. There was no way to determine who was clean and who was possessed since the monster stopped leaving a physical trail. The wire sparked against the metal chair and Rose felt her pulse quicken at the pain that was to come. Dean went first, then Sam, and then she held out her arm and closed her eyes, not wanting to see the wire coming and risk backing away. The pain coursed through her body the second it connected with her skin and she couldn't help but cry out. It felt like lightning ripping through her and it being pulled away from her couldn't come soon enough as she doubled over, rubbing her arm to try and erase the pain.

Rufus was next and when he was clean he turned to Bobby who was awkwardly shuffling every step they took closer. Rufus made the call that it wasn't really Bobby and "Bobby" lunged forward, driving a knife straight into his friend's heart, all the way to the hilt.

They were able to jump him in return as he ripped out the knife and get him secured to a chair. Next began the interrogation.

" _You're all gonna die."_

Certainly wasn't the most chipper start.

It was unsettling to hear Bobby's voice all guttural and for the monster's words to be coming out of his mouth. He was forthcoming with his answers, not bothering to hide anything it seemed. He gleefully told them that Eve created him specially, that he was a whole new breed of monster. Also, he told them that Eve was planning to turn every human into some sort of monster, gathering the remaining ones to act as cattle.

" _And there's gonna be nothing but pain for you from here on in."_

Dean held the live wire against Bobby's neck and it was one of the worst moments that Rose could remember as she helplessly watched him convulse from the electricity. There wasn't anything they could do but stand and wait, praying that Bobby could pull through the pain while the monster fried, the black goo oozing from his nose and ears. When he wasn't breathing after the creature was killed, her heart threatened to stop and her mind went blank as they rushed into resuscitating him.

And she didn't even want to think about the drama that occurred not even a week later when Balthazar decided to unsink the Titanic and they had to try and watch their back for Fate. Thankfully, Castiel got everything settled and their timeline was returned to normal.

Now, Sam pulled open a secret door in the floor that revealed a ladder leading underground. Following him down the steps, they found themselves in a basement of sorts, filled to the gills with paperwork, books, and newspapers. The walls were covered with maps and other notes as well, numerous strings attached to little pinpoints.

"Welcome to the Campbell family library."

They tentatively moved around, using their flashlights to get a better look.

"So Samuel collected all this stuff, huh?" asked Dean.

"Apparently."

Rose flipped open a book, the dust tickling her nose. "This stuff's ancient, but y'know with this line of work, the older the better."

"Here, here," agreed Bobby, also picking up a book.

"So what are we looking for exactly?"

"Well, anything that'll put a run in the Octomom's stockings," Bobby sighed.

Rose nodded in agreement, looking around the room again. "I guess we just pick somewhere to start and go from there?"

"Yep. Pick a row."

After turning on every lamp and the dingy overhead light, they were able to start digging. It was quiet as everyone started to flip through books and papers, looking for any hint of "Eve" or "Mother of All" to catch their eye. Gathering up a stack of books to start with, they took a seat at the old table, the surface quickly becoming covered. Rose was already in the groove of studying, eyes scanning the page and tuning out any outside noise when she just barely heard Bobby speak up.

"Any of you ever heard anything about a phoenix?"

"River, Joaquin or the giant flaming bird?" asked Dean.

Rose nodded and tacked on, "The giant flaming bird is mentioned in the Harry Potter series, but beyond that, nope."

"Do you know all of the Harry Potter trivia?" asked Dean, turning to look at her. She stuck out her tongue, her glare teasing.

"Yes. I'm real fun at parties."

She caught Sam smirking and giving a shake of his head at the two of them and she wrinkled her nose at him too, just to make sure her pride as an adult was properly defended.

Bobby continued on without missing a beat. "It says here that ashes of a phoenix can burn the Mother."

"The Mother?" repeated Sam.

Rose leaned forward in interest. "With a capital M?"

"The very one."

"Great," said Dean. "Where do we get one?"

"You got me. I thought it was a myth," said Bobby.

"I guess it's the same monster tier as dragons," added the girl with a thoughtful frown. "Really calling on old classics in monster lore."

"Great. Well," said Sam, cracking open another book, "let's see if we can find something out about a phoenix."

With that said, they dove into their work again.

A few hours had passed in silence until Dean came over from one of the shelves holding a leather bound book and there was an air of excitement about him.

"Guys. Guys, guys, guys, check this out." He rejoined them at the table and laid the book out for them to see, reading from the entry.

" _March 5_ _th_ _, 1861. Sunrise, Wyoming. Gun killed a phoenix today. Left a pile of smoldering ash._ "

"That's great!" chirped Rose. "Whose book is that?"

"Yeah, and what gun?" added Sam.

Dean's smile could not be more excited.

"Colt's."

"Colt?" repeated Sam. "Colt, like-?"

"Like _the_ Colt." He closed the book and turned it around to show them the cover where a devil's trap was imprinted upon the leather. "Samuel Colt's journal."

He opened the cover to reveal Samuel Colt's signature and the year 1860.

"What?" awed Sam. "That's his?"

"Yeah," he grinned.

"Dude, no."

"Dude, yes."

"Well, let me see—" Dean pulled the journal out of Sam's reach, cradling it close.

"Get your own."

"What else does it say about the phoenix?" asked Bobby. "Does it say what it looks like? Has it got feathers?"

"Or where they tend to set up camp?" added Rose.

"Just says phoenix," answered Dean.

"Did he say where he tracked it?"

"No." He turned the book around for them to read the very short entry. There was no other information given.

"All right. I guess we gotta find one of our own. Whatever it is," decided Sam.

"But we're kind of hunting blind then—" started Rose but Dean suddenly spoke up.

"I know where we can find one."

Everyone turned quickly to look at him and he looked down at the journal, a slow smile pulling at his mouth. "March 5th, 1861, Sunrise, Wyoming. We'll _Star Trek IV_ this bitch."

Instead of reacting, the other three shared similar looks of confusion.

"I only watched _Deep Space Nine_ ," admitted Bobby.

Rose said, "And I'm more of a _Star Wars_ fan, to be honest."

Dean looked taken aback by the information, hanging his head. "It's like I don't even know you guys anymore. _Star Trek IV_ , save the whales."

When they didn't react again, he sighed.

"We hop back in time, join up with Samuel Colt, we hunt the phoenix, and bring the ashes back home with us."

Rose slowly raised her hand in question.

"So….you're suggesting time travel?"

"Yeah."

"Do you happen to know a mad scientist or…?"

"We got a guy who can swing it."

"Wait, really?" she asked.

He gave that eager grin again and closed the book before getting to his feet. He bowed his head as he began to pray.

"Castiel…the, uh, fate of the world is in the balance…so come on down here."

A few beats passed but there was no answer.

"Come on, Cas. _I Dream of Jeannie_ your ass down here, pronto. Please."

There was the familiar sound of rushing air and a woman suddenly stood before them. All four of them bristled at the sight of the new assumed angel.

"Jeannie?" guessed Dean.

"Rachel," she answered. "I understand you need some assistance. How can I help you?"

They all shared a concerned glance before Dean took up the speaking role.

"Well, uh, we kind of need to talk to the big kahuna."

She smiled politely. "I'm here on Castiel's behalf."

"Where's he?" asked Sam. Rose nodded and tacked on,

"Is he okay?"

"He's busy," she clipped, hardly sparing them a glance.

"Busy?" repeated Dean.

"Yes."

"Well, we've got a line on the Mother of freaking everything, so—"

"I'm sure your issue is very important," Rachel cut in, "but Castiel's currently commanding an army, so—"

"So we get stuck with Miss Moneypenny."

"So you need to learn your place."

Rose felt irritation creep up the back of her neck as Dean continued to speak for them.

"I don't know who you think you are—"

"I'm his friend."

"And you think we're not?" asked Sam.

"I think you call him when you need something," she answered, keeping her voice even while her eyes flashed with annoyance. "We're fighting a war."

"We get that," said Sam.

Rose nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we're well aware."

"Clearly, you're not," snapped Rachel, raising her voice, "or you wouldn't call him every time you stub your toe. You petty, entitled little pieces—""

A new voice rang out.

"Rachel."

The angel stilled at Castiel's call, her shoulders tense. Rose looked past her to see their angel friend standing just behind her. Worry made her frown as she noticed just how tired he looked, even his voice was an exhausted sigh.

"That's enough."

Rachel lowered her voice. "I told you I'd take care of this."

"It's all right, you can go."

She looked stunned by his instruction. "You're staying?"

"Go," he told her, his tone firm but not unkind. "I'll come when I can."

The other angel looked like she wanted to say more but she held her tongue and vanished.

"Wow," said Dean, looking to Cas. "Friend of yours?"

"Yes. She's, uh, my lieutenant. She's committed to the cause," he answered. "Now, what do you need?"

* * *

"Where the hell's Dean?" grouched Bobby.

There was the small sound of metal shifting as they sat in the study cleaning guns. They didn't know what was needed so they were preparing everything they had which meant cleaning and reloading clips.

"Supply run, he said. I dunno," answered Sam.

"Um, about your plan…" spoke up Castiel. Rose looked up at the angel who was still standing, having turned down her offer for a seat earlier.

"What's up, Cas?" she asked.

"You'll only have twenty-four hours."

Sam blanched, getting to his feet. "What? Why?"

"Well, the answer to your question can best be expressed as a series of partial differential equations—"

"Yeah. Aim lower," interrupted Bobby, tilting his head toward Sam. Rose kept her giggle to herself, turning her attention back to the angel.

"The further back I send you, the harder it becomes to retrieve you," he explained again. "Twenty-four hours is all I can risk. If I don't pull you home within that time…you'll be lost to me."

Dean's voice spoke up, the hunter returning to the study.

"Well, then we better get you a watch."

Rose raised an eyebrow at the brown bags he was carrying. "Do a bit of shopping?"

"What the hell's all that?" Bobby added.

"We are going native. Gotta blend in," he explained. He held one bag out to Sam, the label reading Wally's Western World. His brother let loose a chuckle.

"No, thanks. I'm fine."

"Sam."

"Dean, I can wear this."

"And look like a spaceman?"

Rose gave a small cough to try and cover her laugh. "Gosh, Sam, can't go lookin' like a spaceman."

He gave her an unamused look and she gave a cheeky grin in return before he turned back to Dean.

"Just because you're obsessed with the Wild West stuff—"

"I'm not."

"You have a fetish," Sam exasperated.

"Shut up. I like old movies," he defended.

"You can recite every Clint Eastwood movie ever made. Line for line."

Bobby looked back and forth between the two. "Even the monkey movies?"

"Yeah, especially the monkey movies," Sam groaned.

"…His name is Clyde," Dean corrected with a mutter. "At least wear the damn shirt?"

He conceded with a sigh, taking the bag grudgingly.

It only took a few minutes for the boys to change while Rose waited with the others in the study. Their footsteps sounded as they made their way down the stairs.

"Dean, this is stupid. I look stupid," grumbled Sam.

The pair entered the study and Rose had to use all of her control not to burst out laughing. They looked like they were dressed for Halloween or some kind of stage production. Sam was wearing his jeans, a black cowboy hat, and a white button down with some kind of design up near the collar. Dean, on the other hand, was fully committed to his look, wearing a brown cowboy hat, and some kind of wrap. A poncho?

She cleared her throat, doing her best to keep her voice steady.

"Well, you're lookin' mighty fine there, boys."

Dean beamed while Sam gave her the no nonsense look. He wasn't about to go down alone.

"Why doesn't Rose have some kind of get up?"

She shook her head. "None for me, thanks. I'll be staying where there's plumbing."

"Wait, you're really not going?" he asked. She shook her head again. Castiel couldn't afford to send three people, it would be too much and it would eat up the amount of time they could spend in the past.

"Sorry, cowboy."

"It would be too much to send all three of you," answered Castiel. He tilted his head slightly as he studied Dean's attire. "Now, is it customary to wear a blanket?"

"It's a serape," Dean gladly informed the group. "And, yes, it's, uh…"

When he noticed the look they were all sharing, somewhere between amused and confused, he let the subject drop. "…Never mind. Let's just go."

Dean noticed the bag sitting on the desk filled with an assortment of gold items. It was all they could scrounge up from the house while they were changing.

"Where you're going they don't take plastic," said Bobby.

"And any cash you have would be inaccurate," Rose added. "Fortunately, gold is pretty universal."

Dean gave an interested nod in agreement, zipping up the bag.

"I'll send you back to March 4th," informed Castiel. "That should give you enough time to find the Colt. And this phoenix creature."

"All right, well, see you at high noon tomorrow…" he gave a click of his tongue and a wink, "Partner."

Bobby and Sam rolled their eyes but Rose was amused by his enthusiasm, playing along.

"Give 'em hell, cowboys."

Castiel brought his hands up and touched both of their foreheads. As soon as he made contact, they were gone. Her amusement dwindled immediately and her smile faded, quickly replaced by worry. She always worried for the boys when they worked their cases but this was something else entirely. Time travel. Wonders never seemed to cease and she was constantly blown away by the angel's abilities.

Castiel spoke up again. "I have to go."

"Right now?" she asked. Again, she was noticing the angel's exhausted features and the way he carried himself even seemed to imply that his shoulders were weary. "Cas, you can take a break here if need to."

"What about getting the boys back?" asked Bobby.

"Thank you, but I have to get back," he said, giving an appreciative nod. "Pray for me in twenty-four hours and I'll return."

Bobby sighed, setting a timer. "I'll pray for all of us."

* * *

Rose and Bobby went about their daily routine as the twenty-four time period counted down. They worked on tracking down leads on Eve, translating the monster journal, combing through Samuel Colt's journal for any extra relevant information. The girl even made a trip into town to grab groceries and to keep herself busy. Even though she was constantly working and researching, her mind still tended to wander and she would find herself worrying about the brothers. They were so far out of reach, if something went wrong there would be no way for her and Bobby to help or to even get in contact with them or, hell, even know anything was wrong to begin with. She knew they were fully capable of taking care of themselves and it really was just for one day, but she couldn't keep from fretting, so she defaulted to doing chores to keep busy when studying wasn't enough.

The day passed and night came and went like always. The usual nightmares were more of a nuisance nowadays, stealing away the opportunity for sleep, leaving her more tired every day. It took her a little longer to get her energy up to her usual levels, but she was up early so that gave her the extra time to get to normal by the time the rest of the house was awake.

In fact, she was nursing her second mug of coffee when there was a sudden sound of crashing from the kitchen. She and Bobby shared a quick look before rushing to their feet, their books left opened and forgotten. He grabbed the gun from his desk but Rose was already skidding into the kitchen.

"Cas!"

The angel was pushing himself up from the ground, his body shaking from the effort and he dragged himself over toward the refrigerator

"Cas?" she tried again. He brought a hand up to signal her to be quiet and she could only look on helplessly as he touched his chest. His hand came away red and she had to hold herself back to keep from rushing to help. Slowly, he began to draw some type of sigil on the white surface. When it was completed, he managed to pull himself up to his feet, turning to face them.

"Cas?" asked Bobby. "Are we running or fighting?"

"We're…" He tried to walk toward them as his eyes began to roll upwards and Rose lunged forward, throwing her arms out to hook under his, keeping him upright. The sudden dead weight was throwing off her own balance and she began to falter too, knees threatening to buckle.

"Balls!" came Bobby's curse, hurrying forward to grab the both of them.

With their combined effort, they managed to move him to the small sofa in the study. Carefully lowering his head onto the arm of the couch, Rose paled at the sight of his injury. It looked to be some sort stab wound, exactly over his heart. She rushed to grab the first aid kit and wasted no time in getting to work. She was not about to let the angel die, not on her watch.

* * *

The timer continued to count down as the two hunters waited with bated breath. Rose couldn't keep her foot from bouncing and she found herself biting her thumbnail as she fretfully watched over Castiel. The angel didn't so much as flinch since they placed him on the couch. She had done the best she could but she had never really dealt with an angel-level injury before. After working his button down shirt open, she had gasped sharply at the sight of the injury. Right over his heart was a stab wound staining his chest red. It was healing but she could still see bright white slipping through the laceration.

His _Grace_.

She had never been so equally in awe and terrified in her life. On one hand, she was seeing something on a purely angelic level while on the other, being witness to such a core component of the heavenly being only further established the severity.

When he finally opened his eyes, she felt like she could finally take a deep breath.

"Castiel," she sighed with relief, placing a hand over her nervously beating heart. "Oh thank God…"

He stiffly pushed himself upright, blue eyes darting side to side in disorientation. When he faltered the girl quickly reached out to help steady him.

"Cas, hey, hey, you're all right, you're all right."

"You look like you went 12 rounds with Truckasaurus," said Bobby. "What happened?"

"I was, um…" he blinked a few times, trying to straighten out his thoughts. "I was betrayed…Rachel, uh…Raphael…He corrupted her. She turned on me."

Rose's jaw dropped in shock and she made her appall perfectly clear.

"That _bitch!_ "

Bobby's lips dared to twitch at her unfiltered reaction and he cleared his throat. "Sorry. Girl's a real peach."

"She's…dead," Castiel informed them. "I was wounded. I needed safety. Thank you."

"Of course, Cas—" The angel started to push himself upright with an audible groan and Rose carefully grabbed his shoulders, easing him back down with hardly any physical effort on her part which was equally worrying. "You've gotta take it easy. You took a big hit."

"She's right," agreed Bobby. "Now, what's with the finger painting?"

"It's…it's a warding symbols against angels…" he explained, his breathing still shallow.

"How bad does it hurt?"

There was a pause. "I'll heal…"

"Cas—"

"Well, good," gruffed Bobby, folding his arms across his chest. "We got less than an hour before you pick up the kids at Frontierland."

"…I can't."

She felt her stomach drop all the way to the floor and the color drained from her face just as quickly.

"What…?" she muttered. "What did you—what did you say?"

Bobby was just as a stunned. "Come again?"

"This fight…drained me…" he tried to explain.

"Well, if you're up on blocks then call in another halo who can get the job done," suggested Bobby.

"I can't…"

"Well, there's gotta be something that can juice you up," he persisted. "A spell, something."

He thought for a moment. "There is one thing that might work…but it's extremely dangerous."

"Shocker," he huffed. "So, lay it on us."

He lowered his head for a moment before delivering the news.

"It's your soul."

Rose and Bobby shared a confused look before turning back to the angel.

"What do you want us to do?" he asked. "Make another deal? Seal it with a kiss?"

Cas paused again, looking away from them as his mouth formed a tight line.

"…I need you to let me touch it…"

"Touch it?"

"The human soul, it's pure…energy," he explained. "If I can siphon some of that off, I might be able to bring Sam and Dean back."

" _Might_?" squeaked Rose.

"And the catch is?"

"Doing this is like putting your hand in a nuclear reactor…I have to do it very gingerly."

"Or?"

"…Or you'll explode."

The two were quiet for a moment and Rose felt light headed at the angel's words. _Explode?_

"Well…keep both hands on the wheel."

Rose whipped her head at the older hunter's words. "What? Bobby, no, you can't!"

"What do you mean I can't—?"

"I mean," she hurried to her feet so to be at better eye level, "you were just about electrocuted to death not even a couple of weeks ago! No way am I letting you potentially explode!"

"And you think you should?" he argued. "Just because you're younger—"

"Just because nothing! I've seen this whole soul touching thing and I'll be damned if I stand to the side and watch you get hurt again!"

"This ain't your call—!"

"It sure as hell is!" She turned with a huff to face Castiel, red hair whipping with the sharp turn. "Since everything—everything with Crowley, the claim on my soul is gone, yeah? So you can use my soul. Consent given."

"Rose." She faced the hunter again at the sound her name and Bobby studied her for a hard moment, to which she held his gaze. They could almost see the other bristle up, not wanting each other to get hurt, both jaws clenched tight. A muscle jumped in his jaw before he forced himself to release a breath.

"If you want to be the dumbass, then fine. You can take this one."

She gave a terse nod, a tiny smile daring to twitch. "Thanks, Bobby."

"Don't thank me yet."

He grabbed a chair and brought it over closer to Castiel. Dimly aware of her heart rate picking up, Rose took a seat before her nerves could talk her out it, her palms already sweating.

Castiel forced himself to his feet, his form now towering over her. He looked grim as well, his complexion still ashy.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, forcing a tight smile and a strained joke. "Just call me Duracell…"

"The risks—"

"Just don't—don't blow me up, 'kay? Please?"

Bobby handed her the belt and she felt her stomach do a flip as she doubled it over. There had to be enough material for her teeth to sink into. Better the belt than her tongue or grinding her teeth. Hands shaking, she placed the leather between her teeth and lowered her arms, gripping the sides of her chair. Castiel's hand came to rest on her shoulder, steadying her further. His other hand began to glow with that heavenly golden light and keeping his hand flat and open, he brought it to her exact center.

Her mind went white from the sudden onslaught of pain. Her teeth sank into the leather as she simultaneously screamed, her head thrown back. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before in her entire life. It wasn't like breaking a bone, cutting your hand, or getting burned. This level of pain surpassed every sensation. The deeper Castiel's arm sank, the more it seemed to hurt. She couldn't focus on a single point of pain because there wasn't just one. Every molecule she was made up of was screaming out in agony, begging for it to stop.

* * *

Frustrated was the term.

Crowley was tired, irritable, and snappish. The Alphas were aggravating as always, doing their best to resist his torturing methods and keep their mouths shut about their dear monster mummy. They didn't seem to make as much progress as he would like and when they did make took too long in his opinion. It was just all work, gore, and no progress. In short, he was working his arse off and there was nary a reprieve in sight. Nothing but his laboratory walls and his own thoughts.

Normally, he would teleport over to see Rosette when the days were bad. A little bit of fresh air to help clear his head and he would come back feeling better and actually manage to be productive. Now with his current scheme in motion, he couldn't break away for a proper moment. Playing dead was exhausting and he was going stir crazy on top of it all.

It as a particularly vexing day when he felt a disturbance. Well, "felt" was the wrong term, as was "disturbance." It was more like he was stabbed through the brain with an ice pick chock full of an awareness that wasn't his.

His knife clattered to the floor as his head was filled with a screaming that certainly didn't belong to him. He could feel the soul seizing in pain, writhing as it tried to naturally break away. Doubled over his own trolley of torture instruments, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus, pushing past the blinding pain and searching for the cause of the trauma. The holy energy was unmistakable.

Castiel.

A shout of frustration tore through him and he threw his cart to the side, the metal crashing but he couldn't hear the crashing sound as he allowed his eyes to shift to their true crimson. His growl was guttural.

"You've got to be _bloody_ kidding me…!"

Hiding be damned, he cursed inwardly as he tore off his blood splattered apron and threw it to the ground. He pulled on his suit jacket, followed by his overcoat. Castiel must have lost his feathered angel mind if he thought for one _second_ that he would stand by and let him touch _his_ soul.

Rosette was his and his alone, there was no question or debate about it. This one human, just this one, belonged to him entirely. Rosette with all of her smiles and her kindness. Rosette, whose selflessness brought her to him and she extended him the same unflinching respect. Rosette, the only living thing that he actually valued.

She. Was. His.

There was no way the King of Hell was going to let the rebellious angel get away with using her as a bloody _battery_.

He found himself at the home of Bobby Singer and he knew that he had to step lightly, lest he wanted to find himself in a devil's trap. His anger was rekindled as the scene unfolded before in the hunter's study. Castiel was still using her, his arm reaching past her physical state. Rosette's head was thrown back as her screams cracked and rose in pitch through the belt clenched between her teeth. The bright white light of a soul was unmistakable and he watched that very same light travel up her own body as if to shatter her from the inside out.

While he was absolutely furious with the whole ordeal at them same time his anger was momentarily subdued at the sight of her soul. The bright yet soft light that seemed to whisper and scream all at once, radiating with pure power. His fingers twitched, itching to touch the energy himself, the magnetism lulling him into stepping closer. He just wanted to…taste what her soul would feel like, her power melding with him. After all their years together, he wanted to know if it felt like he had imagined. Like a river current thrumming with power and delicacy all tangled in at once. Powerful enough to carve out any path chosen while being simultaneously soft enough to caress a loved one. The concept was a contradictory one but it all made sense him as he found himself standing by her side, eyes half-lidded as he gazed down at her. His hand started to reach for her…it was as if she was constructed out of starlight…

The fuzziness that blanketed his mind starting to slip away when she screamed again, the one higher in pitch than the last and thus shaking him from his thoughts. The light of her soul looked less like soft light from the moon but more a burning from an impossibly bright sun. It was hurting her. Anger started to bubble up within him again as he turned his sharpening glare to Castiel who was taking too damn long. He couldn't interfere due to the impossibly high likelihood of death to the very girl before him. She was a nuclear reactor right now and the wrong move from either angel or demon could send her soul into a split second meltdown.

So he had to wait.

* * *

Deeper and deeper she felt Castiel's presence go, searching for something well beyond the physical form. She didn't know how she managed to maintain any focus but she was shocked into a razor sharp awareness when she felt him brush against… _that._

Her eyes flew open at that particular contact and see couldn't see anything but white-gold light and she couldn't even hear the sound of herself screaming anymore. Was this it? Is this what death felt like? All unbearable light and nothingness?

As if to answer her question, her senses started to dully return. The belt dropped from her mouth as she gasped for air, chest heaving. Slowly, the study came back into muddled focus and she could blearily see Castiel pushing himself upright and Bobby was suddenly beside her, his hand clasped onto her shoulder. She blinked a few times in confusion. He looked incredibly pale but he gave a reassuring clap, his grip tight and unwavering.

Next was the sudden sound of bodies stumbling and Sam and Dean were skidding into the room. They were out of breath and Dean was holding some sort of empty bottle. Judging by the look of disappointment, the mission hadn't been successful.

It didn't take long for Dean to explain everything that happened. Meeting the phoenix that had the surname Finch, which Rose found mildly amusing but it hurt too much to laugh. They explained Samuel Colt and that his gun worked against the monster. They also told them why the phoenix was killing people in the first place. He had gone into town with his wife, a human, and he had left her alone to run an errand only to come back and see some scumbag deputy having his way with her against her will. Then, when he confronted him, the man shot the phoenix and his wife, running off. Of course, the phoenix couldn't die, but his beloved wife did, in his arms. Dean said they were in the middle of a shoot-out, Old West style, and he was faster, shooting the monster. He had been just about to scoop up the ashes when they were called back to present day.

"You gotta send us back."

Both Rose and Cas sent him a withering look at the ludicrous idea. Thankfully, Sam picked up on their physical status.

"Dean, look at them. They're fried."

Cas spoke up. "I never want to do that again."

Dean looked to the girl. "Rose, you—"

"My clock's still ticking," she assured him, her breathing still shallow and labored as she leaned back heavily in the chair. "I just feel like I've been turned to Jell-O…"

"And we screwed the pooch," Dean muttered, disappointed in their own work. "Guys, I'm sorry."

Before anyone could answer, there was a knock on the door. Everyone shared a confused look and Sam made his way to the front of the house to inspect. It took hardly a moment before he came back with a package. The paper looked ancient and he peeled it away to reveal an equally aged wooden box. Removing the slate top, there was some kind of straw acting as a filler and Sam pulled out a small, dust caked device that she recognized as he cellphone after a moment. Thankfully, there was a letter to clear things up and Sam began to read.

" _Dear Sam, I got this address and date off your thingamajig…and I thought the enclosed might come in handy. Regards, Samuel Colt._ "

Slowly, he reached into the box again and pulled out a glass bottle stuffed full with dark black ash.

"Is that what I think it is?" asked Bobby.

"Ashes of a phoenix," nodded Dean. He gave them all a steady look. "You know what this means?"

"That Rose didn't get a soulonoscopy for nothin'."

She would've raised her fist in agreement but that hurt too much. "Here, here!"

"Yes. And…it means we take the fight to her."

There was a tense silence at Dean's words. To take the fight directly to Eve, the Mother of all monsters….it was a tough pill to swallow. It would be a hell of fight since she was the creator of all thing clawed and fanged, the Alpha of Alphas so to speak.

Rose couldn't bring herself to properly go over the risks to their plan, her body simply hurt too much. At this point she was certain that even her hair was hurting and she didn't even know if that was possible. She could feel her body wanting to shut down, to rest even for a little bit to try and recharge from the holy trauma it had endured.

"Guys, I'm gonna go lay down…" she informed them, unaware if they had been speaking or not. God, laying down on her bed sounded so good at the moment.

"Yeah, of course," agreed Sam, his tone understanding. "Do you need a hand getting upstairs?"

"Nah, I should be okay. Thanks though," she answered with a grateful smile. "But if you hear a crash, come and get me. I don't think I have the energy to stand up twice."

Dean gave a small chuckle at her good humor. "Roger that, Red."

She gave a thumbs up and gingerly pushed herself up onto her feet. Despite what she just said, Sam still helped her out of the chair and even though she teased him, she was immensely grateful for the assistance. How was it that her body was so heavy? It felt like her limbs were made of lead as she slowly made her way up the stairs. God, so many stairs….too, too many stairs. How pathetic would it be if she just sat down on a step and took a nap right there? She would never hear the end of it that was for sure.

After what felt like years, she finally made it to her bedroom door. She felt like she had just gone through a marathon with the stairs and she couldn't wait to collapse onto her bed, fully dressed in jeans and all. Her eyes were already starting to close and she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her with a heavy sigh. Finally—

"Hello, darling."

She couldn't but flinched terribly at the voice, her gaze whipping toward the source. Her back hit the door she had just closed while her heart began to hammer wildly within her chest. She couldn't remember how to breathe, or even if she needed to breathe as she stared on with wide blue eyes. She didn't need to see to confirm the voice, she would know that one anywhere. But it couldn't be…

His image filled her vision as he stood across from her, his dark clothes the same as they ever were. The suit, the overcoat, the black tie. Everything was exactly the way as she remembered. His hands in his pockets as he coolly regarded her, equal parts relaxed and threatening all at once, if that made sense.

No…it couldn't make sense. She saw him turn to ash. She saw him fall to Castiel's holy fire. That familiar pain thumped with a resounding force, her chest now aching, and his name stuck in her throat. It couldn't be him, it couldn't…she saw him die…!

"You're dead…" she managed to get out with a croak. She gave a shake of her head, trying to dislodge the budding hope. It had to be a result of the soul sharing she just did with the angel. She was seeing things. "You're not real…"

"Oh, is that so?" he brought his hand up to examine in the light with a faux studious expression. He turned his gaze to her and that smirk was pulling at his mouth. "I guess I didn't get the memo."

She couldn't keep herself from trembling as she stared at him, taking in every detail she could, trying to reason out every other possible scenario. She couldn't believe this wasn't just some dream, a twisted nightmare her Hell-visions had crafted just for her. Her body dared to take a step closer. He wasn't turning to ash, flames roaring to engulf him. He wasn't looking at her and seeing another person entirely like when Balthazar threw them in the alternate reality.

"I do apologize for the smoke and mirrors, all necessary in the long run I'm afraid—"

"I saw you _die!_ "

He looked surprised by her sudden shout but she couldn't stop the emotional upheaval within her that threatened to drown her. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she found herself moving closer to the demon. She could feel the warmth in the air that happened only when he was there and her heart only raced faster, ignoring her increasing lightheadedness. All of her emotions were crashing into her, wave after wave. Relief, agony, joy, frustration, betrayal, all in a seemingly never ending vortex within her heart, making her chest feel tight.

"A necessity, as I said—"

"A _necessity_?!" she repeated, not caring if her voice rose. "I watched you _die_ , Crowley! I saw you turn to ash with my own eyes that day and every night since! And now—and now, you're standing here like—like it was _nothing_?!"

To both of their surprise, she lashed out and shoved him hard, her hands flat against his chest and he stumbled back. Tears were still streaming furiously down her face.

"Do you have any idea what that did to me?" she half shouted, stepping up to him again. She didn't care as to why he gave a small snap of his fingers and why the boys weren't rushing upstairs as she allowed herself to be clearly heard. "How _helpless_ I felt, being unable to help you while that bitch controlled my body? How friggin' _worthless_ I felt, because I couldn't save you? Every night I went through those nightmares of Hell but that had _nothing_ on watching you die, over and over again, turning to ash as I watched, useless—"

"Rosette—"

She didn't care that she was sobbing, her voice cracking as she continued, reaching out and grabbing the front of his jacket, the lapel wrinkling in her hands as she shouted,

"It _broke_ my _heart_!"

Before she could catch her breath, she felt arms wrap around her and she was pulled to his body. Their lips found each other in an instant and once again, there was that soul searing heat that threatened to consume her, lightning racing through her nerves. Thoughts threatened to enter her mind but she banished them all away, wrapping her arms around him as well. One hand slipped beneath his jacket and around to his back, feeling his body react to her touch. Her other reached up to the back of his neck, threading through his hair. They seemed to both be pulling the other as close as they could stand, their bodies crushing together.

His touch felt like fire as his hands roamed across her body, fervently touching her as if he couldn't get enough. His hands sunk into her hip so to pull her closer, then his fingers in her side, wanting to bring her in even though they were already flush together. Their chests heaved together as they gasped for air when they could, unable to bear being apart for more than the essential second, drawn to each other again with renewed vigor each time. She pushed against him hard, not allowing him to have the undisputed control. It was intoxicating, the heat, the want, the _need_ for each other. It was like she was drowning and he was oxygen, so heady that it made her head spin.

Both of her hands circled around to the back of his neck, still raking her fingers through his brown hair. She had to pull herself away for a beat when she realized that her vision was indeed spinning, the room swerving in and out of focus. Acute exhaustion was hitting her like a truck and she could feel her grip on her own consciousness slipping away.

She looked up at the demon, bringing one hand up to cradle his face, her thumb brushing his cheek. Fear shivered through her as everything started to go dim. No, no, no she didn't want it to end. She didn't want to let go. What if it was just a dream? A hallucination? She couldn't lose him again…!

"Crowley…I…" she breathed, voice scarcely above a whisper as she felt her legs start to give out. He was keeping her upright, arms tightly around her as she fell forward, her forehead coming to rest on his shoulder as her words became a mumble, "…love…"

She didn't know if she managed to finish what she was saying as she lost all awareness, going slack in the demon's hold. She didn't feel him put her to bed. She didn't see him bring his hand up to his face, his thumb brushing against his lips as he looked down at her. She didn't hear him snap his fingers before teleporting away.

All she knew was that for the first time in over a year, she slept without a single nightmare.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Your thoughts would be loved as always! Sorry for the delay, I'm all done getting married so hopefully we can get back on track to wrap up this season! Finally, after so much waiting we got some Crowley and Rose togetherness! Lots of emotion purging and kissing, just what the doctor ordered. Just two more chapters left in this season and I am so excited and I hope you are too!**

 **Next time: Mommy Dearest**

 **I hope you all enjoyed!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

"What are you playing at, angel?"

Crowley voice was perfectly even as he reappeared in his laboratory, Castiel having just arrived a short moment before. The angel was still ragged and running on fumes, already crashing from his momentary high from his direct soul contact. He was leaning heavily against the table that was mercifully clean at the moment.

"What are you asking?" he coughed, pushing himself fully upright. The demon's eyes sharpened and a tight sneer pulled at his mouth.

"You know perfectly well what I mean." His steps clipped against the tiled floor as he stepped closer. "Just because you've carved her with your sigils does _not_ mean that you get to use her as a bloody battery!"

"She insisted—"

"I don't care!" he snapped. "You know full well that our contract is still intact and yet you went and played soul operation anyway! What, were you praying she wasn't going to be sprayed across the room at the slightest misstep?"

Castiel regarded him strangely, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side.

"Why do you care so much about Rosette?" he asked him plainly.

He didn't miss a beat. "She's my contract—"

"No," Castiel interrupted, his blue eyes scrutinizing now. "Of all the deals that you've struck and currently have ongoing, it seems as if you care about this particular one far beyond the grounds stated by your contract."

"Whatever you're implying—"

"She is just as much involved with the Sam and Dean now. Trained in the ways of a hunter, researching how to kill monsters," he continued, moving closer, piercing eyes never straying. "If anything, you should want to collect her soul sooner rather than later as she becomes more of a threat. The longer she is with Sam and Dean, the more she grows and the bigger danger she becomes."

"Rosette wouldn't hurt me," Crowley said without a shade of doubt.

"No, perhaps not," he agreed. "But with her researching, she could be a dangerous threat against our hunt for Purgatory."

Hazel eyes narrowed as he carefully asked, "Dangerous how?"

"If Rosette knew what we were doing, found out you were alive, and asked you to stop, could you refuse her?"

He gave a small pause in thought. Imagining the scene hardly took any thought on his part, especially after their reunion of sorts just moments ago.

If she found out that they were trying to crack open Purgatory, a feat she and the Winchesters were well aware of, but if she knew just how close they were to it, there was no doubt that she would do her best to interfere and try to stop him. He could already hear the desperation in her voice as she would plead with him, beg him not to go through with their plan. He would counter with the fact that they needed the souls but she would stand firm, perhaps grabbing the front of his jacket again so to keep some sort of physical contact as she looked him square in the eye, those blue eyes burning brightly as if to reflect the sheer intensity of her emotions. He didn't know how she always did that but he could feel her emotions radiating from her, almost like colliding with a wave, the taste lingering on his tongue.

" _Please! Crowley, you can't! Who knows what'll really happen if you open up Purgatory! They're monster souls—what if something happens to you? Please, I can't lose you again because I love—"_

He shoved the thought to the side, crushing the imagined scene and bringing his focus back to the argument at hand.

"It wouldn't change anything, even if she did ask," he answered. "She's human, you're an angel, and I'm the King of Hell. One human girl won't interfere."

"She's with Sam and Dean now. Her being human isn't enough to disregard her as you well know," said Castiel, his expression growing more concerned. "There are…other ways to make certain that she won't interfere. It would also serve to throw the others off our trail as well, if only for a moment…"

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

The angel was quiet for a moment, the atmosphere turning grave. "I'm…quite surprised you haven't brought this up yourself, but I could…I could remove the sigils…"

A pin drop would ring with utmost clarity if it fell in that moment.

Crowley felt his body freeze at the suggestion and he fought to keep his face still. Of course, that was a viable suggestion and it was out of the ordinary that he never brought it up again. Back when they were taking down Lucifer and trying to stop the Apocalypse, he had badgered the angel to remove the sigils that were interfering with his contract at every chance. Now since they were well beyond the collection date, he hadn't argued about it once.

He cursed inwardly. He really was soft where Rosette was concerned. He knew that the instant the angelic sigils were removed then his hounds would be alerted to the soul that needed to be collected, drawn to her like a shark to blood. They would find her in just short moments, shredding her to ribbons, dragging her soul down to Hell, to him in particular. As per their contract, her soul was owed to him directly. She wouldn't go through any others channels, his hounds would deliver her directly to him. It would be unbelievably satisfying to finally have her soul, that power melding with his own after waiting for so long. More than ten years on earth in addition to the time difference whenever he was in Hell he had waited. Patience wasn't his virtue, if he were to have any, and yet here he was, waiting instead of forcing his hand.

" _Just in case there was the shadow of a doubt…" he said, gazing down at her. "When I make a deal, I stick to it even when angels interfere. So there's no need to worry about some underhanded plot to kill you before your new time."_

" _Do you promise?"_

 _Her blue eyes were bright as she looked up with him, still shaking from the ordeal and learning that she wouldn't be dying that night. Her body was shaking as she tried to come to grips with her new lease on life, her knees trembling. He was already holding her elbow, keeping her upright in case she was overwhelmed by sudden fatigue._

 _An amused smirk pulled at his mouth as he looked down at her. She was so small in the grand scheme of things. One small, little life thrumming under his hand, her soul a breath away. Still alive because of his mercy. Breathing, because he allowed it. If he truly wished, he could call the contract to task despite the sigils. Just like when he offered to collect her soul before the showdown with Lucifer. It would take a serious bout of power to overwhelm Enochian sigils, but it was well within his ability. After all, he was King now._

 _Her words were so simple, even childish, and he could feel her thread of newfound hope hum as she gazed up at him. He leaned in close, bringing his mouth right to her ear and she didn't pull away, in fact, he felt her hand brush against his coat and he purred,_

" _I promise."_

Even as the King of Hell, he prided himself on being a demon of his word. That was exactly why he was good at what he did because he knew how to use words to his advantage and he would twist them to always benefit himself and his goals. The promise he made to Rosette was binding within his own code of conduct. Although Castiel didn't know about their private conversation, it was still the angel suggesting that they kill the girl in order to buy more time for their search. The civil war among the angels must be deteriorating rapidly for him to even consider the deceitful action.

"That's quite unlike you, Castiel," he said tersely. "Raphael must be really ruffling your feathers for you to consider a backstabbing of sorts. Here I thought you and Rosette were friends."

"I could resurrect her once Raphael is defeated," the angel reasoned, his face still ashy pale. "This by no means is my preferred method of action, but the war in heaven is unraveling. My lieutenant, Rachel, found out about what Balthazar tried to do to generate more souls and turned on me. If the others found out, it stands to reason that they would turn on me as well. We need to figure out Purgatory quickly."

"Fine," he gritted, a muscle jumping in his jaw. "As soon as we get the souls, you can kick Raphael's pretentious derrière and this whole thing will be over with."

Castiel made to walk by him but the demon's hand snapped out and grabbed his collar in a flash, yanking him to his eye level. His voice came out in a snarl, rumbling as he allowed his demonic energy to flare.

"And you'd best keep your hands off my contract, kitten."

* * *

Grants Pass, Oregon

Rosette kept her gaze on the window as the five of them crammed into a booth at Ervin's Diner. She watched the people passing by, the residents of the small town enjoying the pleasantly cool weather. Kids were riding on the bikes, couples walking hand in hand, the traffic light and traveling at a reasonable speed. Her plate was mostly untouched with the exception of a few fries she snacked on, her mind far away. She should be at the ready for when Bobby finds something on Eve, but she was having a hard time focusing.

After everything that happened with the vampire Lenore, who gave them the information on Eve's current locale, and how Cas smote her with hardly any hesitation, burning her from the inside out with heavenly light. Well, her thoughts were scattered. On one hand, she was worried by the angel's lack of reservation when it came to killing the monster who helped them. He didn't even give her a warning, a moment to compose her thoughts before her own requested death.

Then, in the other part of her mind, she was trying to come to grips with what happened the night that she offered her soul in order to bring the boys back from the Wild West. The memory was fuzzy, fogged over due to the sheer exhaustion after the soul ordeal, but she was fighting to force the moment into clarity because…because she wanted it to be true. It was tricky trying to figure out if something really happened or if it was some kind of hallucination or dream constructed by her fatigued mind.

Crowley had appeared to her. He told her, in his words, that his death was all smoke and mirrors. A necessity. She remembered arguing, even shouting at him but she couldn't recall what it was she said exactly, only that she meant it. She could remember getting worked up emotionally, her chest heaving as she shouted and choked on her own tears. That had to mean it was real, right?

She had grabbed the front of his suit jacket, the material crumpled in her grip, and before she could shout again there was the overwhelming presence of heat. Her body was crushed to his and it took her a moment to understand that they were kissing. Heart beating wildly, euphoria filled her as she threw her arms around him and returned the sentiment, throwing any reserve out the window. All the pain from the soul sharing was wiped from her mind as she allowed herself to melt into the moment. She was allowed to believe that he was right there in her arms and they were together again. Her soul felt like singing.

But when she woke up, she was back in her bed like nothing was amiss. Unsure, she tried to call his name. If he was really alive then he would answer, right? Why hide again if he already revealed himself to her?

There was no answer. So, she tried again and her pulse fluttered worriedly beneath her skin.

Nothing.

According to the boys, she had slept for a solid day and a half. Perhaps she had made up the encounter? Maybe it was a result of having an angel touch her soul? Instead of the usual nightmares, she got to have one dream she really wanted? She couldn't risk asking because she couldn't tell them about the dream in question. They wouldn't take it very well that she was pining for the King of Hell and it wasn't even something she could very well explain. It just was and she couldn't will herself to think any other way. She didn't want to.

Now, she was people watching and she found herself wishing that she was walking hand in hand with her loved one. It was such a little, simple thing, but it made her heart give a sad pang at the thought.

"You all right, Red?"

Dean's voice pulled her from her thoughts and she turned her attention back to the boys.

"Yeah. I'm good. What's up?" she asked, making sure that her voice was even. Her eyes felt a little watery so she gave a smile to distract. She should've been paying more attention.

Dean didn't comment on her appearance, but he did raise an eyebrow.

"Not hungry?"

She looked down at her plate that was growing cold and she picked up another fry, not feeling up to eating the burger. Nibbling on the fry to dissuade some of the older Winchester's concern, she stopped looking out the window and turned her attention to Bobby, who was messing with the tablet so to look up some information about the town.

"I asked for a computer," grouched the hunter.

"It _is_ a computer," returned Rose, doing her best not to laugh. This was a conversation they had more than once. If it didn't have a keyboard, he didn't trust it.

"A computer has buttons," he sassed back. She giggled. Knew it.

"Times are a'changin'," teased the girl, picking up another fry. Maybe she was hungry after all. "So, anything?"

"Nothin' really. Mostly nickel-and-dime stuff, nothing weird," he huffed. "Basically, dead end. Do you think Vampira was lying?"

She shrugged, unsure. "I don't see why she would."

Castiel looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was paying attention to them.

"I'll search the town. Give me a moment."

Thrilled to have some more elbow room on their side of the booth, Rose was confused when the angel didn't vanish. He was still sitting with his back perfectly straight and his gaze forward. Confused, the others picked up it as well. Normally, Castiel could vanish in half a second, an ability he was especially skilled at. Rose decided to break the silence first to find out what was going on.

"Are you—are you buffering?"

There was a snort from Sam and Dean spoke up as well when the angel gave her a confused look.

"Cas, we can still see you."

"Yeah, I'm still here," he answered.

"Okay, well, you don't have to wait on us. You—"

Cas huffed at his comment and glanced around again to be sure. This time, he closed his eyes in concentration. His brow even furrowed from his intense thought. Rose looked to the others, her concern obvious. What was going on?

Dean took the less delicate approach. "Well, now it just looks like you're pooping."

He opened his eyes, confused by the dilemma as well.

"Something's wrong."

"What, are you stuck?"

"I'm blocked."

A tense silence fell over the booth while the rest of the diner continued to bustle. That wasn't good. Oh no, it was absolutely terrible. Having Castiel was their ace card in case the phoenix ash didn't work.

"I'm powerless."

Rose suddenly felt lightheaded and the food she had eaten felt like lead in her stomach. Oh no…

"You're joking," said Dean in disbelief.

"Something in this town is, uh…it's affecting me," he tried to explain. "I assume it's Eve."

"So wait. Mom's making you limp?" Dean asked.

Castiel was sure to clarify the hunter's choice of words. "Figuratively, yes."

"How?"

"I don't know, but she is."

"Oh well, that's great, because without your power, you're just a baby in a trench coat."

When Castiel didn't anything to say in response, he simply sat back in his seat, lost in thought.

"I think you hurt his feelings," Sam half-whispered. Dean gave his brother a look and threw his hands up in exasperation.

"I got something here, maybe," spoke up Bobby. "Had to go federal to get it."

"Great. It's something at least," sighed Rose, running a hand through her hair, trying to shake her nerves. "What'd you find?"

"Call went out from the local office to the CDC last night," he read. "A Dr. Silver called in an illness he couldn't identify. Patient's a 25 year-old African American named Ed Bright."

"Well, that's not much to go on," said Dean.

"But it is something," countered Rose. "An illness a doctor can't recognize? Trust me, that's especially weird for a town this size."

"So beggars can't be choosers. Right, I get it," agreed Dean. "Well, let's finish up and head out."

* * *

As it turned out, Dr. Silver was exactly the lead that they needed. While the receptionist that was closing up shop didn't seem concerned by the no-call-no-show doctor, mildly telling them that he hadn't been in to work that day. Rosette found that very strange, because in her experience, if someone didn't show up for work or even bother to send a text that usually a cause for concern. Once the receptionist was gone, Dean began to work on the door's lock while Cas observed over his shoulder. Keeping an eye out on their surroundings so not to be caught breaking into the doctor's office, Rosette stilled when she saw blood smeared on the door to the side. It hardly took a moment for Dean to ram it open with his shoulder and they immediately found a body wrapped in plastic and duct tape.

Ed Bright.

Covering her nose and mouth with the sleeve of her jacket, she took a step back from the dead body. His brown eyes were still open, staring on endlessly, and his skin seemed to be sloughing off by the handful, a large laceration donned his temple as well. She couldn't but feel sad for the stranger. He was just a college kid, he didn't ask for the fate he got.

They had to work quickly and catch up with the others, explaining what they had found. So the next logical step was to check out Ed Bright's place of residence. Maybe he had contracted something there? A hex bag, a cursed object maybe?

Sam and Bobby had just arrived when Castiel asked if the victim had a brother. When he was told no, he nodded toward the frat house where it certainly looked like Ed Bright was standing at the window, all the way down to the exact same blue shirt. The figure didn't stay at the window for long, doubled over coughing as he tried to shut the curtains. Splitting up, Cas and Bobby were left outside and Rosette, Sam, and Dean made their way into the home, weapons drawn.

All it took was one kick from Dean and the door was opened. Their rush was quickly halted when they saw the bodies strewn about the place. What was the most unsettling was that they were _all_ Ed Bright. Blood covering their faces and their clothes, eyes open and glassy. Some were upright in a chair or laying down on the couch while the others look as if they had simply fallen and never got up.

"My God…" Rose muttered.

There was a rasping cough from the other end of the room and they quickly moved forward, taking extra care not to touch anything. They certainly didn't want to contract whatever it was.

The last figure was just like the others, matching Ed Bright in every sense and he was struggling to take the cap off a flask so to get a drink.

"What's wrong with me…?" he groaned. Sam found a wallet and showed them the I.D inside. Caucasian male with blonde hair named Marshall Todd. They all looked to each other confused. So was it a shifter? An infection?

"You're going to be all right," reassured Rose. His bleary gaze seemed to focus on her and she had to give thanks to her ginger genetics, red hair made her easy to point out. If that's what it took to help him focus and keep breathing then fine.

"Lemme ask you something," he wheezed. "Do I…do all of us? Look like Ed?"

"What? No, no, no, of course not," lied Dean.

"You have a very high fever, which can lead to hallucinations," explained Rose. "We have help on the way, but you've got to help us understand what's going on. Okay, Marshall?"

"Am I gonna die?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"No, no, no, darlin', you're not, but I need you to keep talking to us, okay? You gottta keep focus here," she said. "You need to stay awake—tell us what happened here."

He sputtered and coughed up a spray of blood as his whole body shook with tremors.

"Ed was feeling bad…so I took him to the doctor," he was interrupted by another harsh cough. "…I think we're all sick now…"

"What about before you and Ed got sick? Did you do anything, go anywhere?" Rose tried to press as gently but firmly as she could. He was fading fast.

"I dunno…"

"Marshall—Marshall, I need you to focus for me," she tried again. "I need you to think. What were you and Ed doing before he got sick? Were you going to a game? A bar?"

"Yeah—a bar…"

"That's great—do you remember which bar?" Blood was staining his mouth and rolling down his chin.

"8th street, I guess…"

"You're doing great, Marshall," she encouraged. "Now, did anything happen at the bar? Did you see anything or meet anyone new?"

His breathing was becoming increasingly labored and Rose felt a pang off guilt and helplessness. There wasn't anything she could do for him. They didn't even know what was wrong. The best she could do was get as much information as she could so that they could take down Eve.

"A girl…a girl in white…"

"Okay, great work, Marshall. Just hang in there, the ambulance is almost here—you're doing great," Rose couldn't help but lie. "What did the girl in white do? Did she do or say something to Ed?"

"No…just…"

He gave another violent cough and his breathing seemed to rattle within his own chest as he fell still, blood trickling from his mouth.

"Marshall?" Rose dared to call out. The college student didn't so much as flinch at his name, his eyes staring on into nothingness just like the others.

It was quiet in the house as it reeked with death and the hunters left solemnly. All of those students, dead because of whatever Eve did. Dean gave her shoulder a squeeze and she looked up in question.

"You did a good job," he told her quietly as they made their way down the path toward Castiel and Bobby. She tried not to let her disappointment show but the corner of her mouth twitched downward in betrayal.

"But we couldn't save him…"

"I know," he grimaced, "but you did the next best thing by finding out everything you could about what hurt him. Now we have another place to check because of what you dug up."

He clapped her shoulder again and she felt marginally better.

That small flutter of hope was quickly stomped out when they opened the doors to the bar and found the entire place littered with dead bodies. Tables and chairs were broken, glasses and bottles shattered, bodies slumped over across every available surface and the air was heavy with the stench of blood and death. Stepping very carefully, they all started to spread out and examine the scene. Upon closer inspection, they could see that some had fangs, some had claws, and some had _both_.

"What the hell?" said Dean. "What has teeth and a spike?"

"I've never seen that before in my life," agreed Bobby.

Rose nodded. "It's usually one thing or another. Monsters don't get to have all the characteristics…"

"Great, so Eve's making hybrids now?"

Rose paled at the thought. "She's trying to Frankenstein a monster…?"

"The question is, why? I mean, what does she want with a-?" Dean stumbled over his word choice. "What do you even call these?"

Bobby shrugged. "Well, congrats. You discovered it. You get to name it."

He only had to ponder a name for a moment.

"Jefferson Starships," he decided with an amused smile. "Because they're horrible and hard to kill."

Rose had to give a breathy laugh at the name. All right, that was funny.

She was on the other side of the bar, carefully stepping over a body when a new voice shouted out. Her body acted faster than she could think for a moment and she had dropped to the ground out of sight.

"Hands where I can see them!"

"Now this is not what it looks like," said Castiel.

"Look. We're the Feds," tried Bobby.

"Yeah?" said the stranger. "Well, Feds are not allowed to do this. Cuff 'em. Turn around."

Rosette flinched when she spotted movement but was immediately relieved to see that it was Dean slinking around to her side of the bar as well. He brought a finger to his lips and she nodded in agreement. Obviously they needed to be quiet.

The cops were surprisingly quick as the bar was enveloped in silence once more as their fellow hunters were taken away. Getting to their feet, the remaining two shared a look and made their way after them. The fact that the cops found them so quickly was suspicious on its own. It was too soon to be a simple coincidence. Not that Rose believed in coincidences anyway.

Their stolen car squealed to a stop outside of the sheriff's station and they both were out of the car in a heartbeat, armed with guns and machetes. They had managed to burst into the building and heard Sam shouting from the next room,

"J-Jefferson Starships!"

The fighting began immediately as the three struggled against their captors and Rose and Dean came crashing through the doors as well. Dean went to the left to the one attacking Castiel, decapitating the Starship with one smooth motion. Rosette caught sight of Sam being thrown against the wall and immediately made a beeline for that particular monster, adrenaline racing through her veins. She was scarcely aware of herself as she moved as fast as she could, jumping onto the desk that was in the way and launching herself toward the one that was baring his teeth and inches away from the youngest Winchester. With her newfound height advantage and well-timed leap, she brought her knees up and sent her full body weight crashing into the guy's shoulders. Her machete was already cutting through the air when Sam shouted,

"Rose—wait!"

The edge of the blade had only just started to sink into the Starship's neck as she forced herself to stop, still pinning the monster to the ground with her body. Muscles trembling, she kept herself from pressing forward while her weapon was still firmly in place, keeping him from trying to get away. She kept him in place while Dean got Sam and Bobby free from their handcuffs and gathered up the necessary items to tie the last Starship up.

They needed to interrogate him for the information he had on Eve, she understood that. They needed the information more than they needed him dead, but when he dared to move his head she didn't hesitate to put more weight into her hold, the edge of her blade sinking in further. There was an anger bubbling up inside of her as a residue from the previous adrenaline. Frustration from not being able to save Ed Bright, Marshall Todd and the other college students, and outright anger when the Starships turned and attacked the handcuffed hunters.

She wouldn't let anyone get away with hurting those precious to her. Her loved ones. Bobby, Sam, Dean, and Castiel were as good as family to her and she would make those threatening them pay merry hell for trying to hurt them. The thought of losing them just made her anger rekindle again and she was sure to grind her knee into the Starship's spine.

Crowley's image appeared at the forefront of her mind and she had to fight to keep herself from shaking. It had been months since she witnessed his death and the wound was still so fresh in her heart that it made her chest ache, even now. The hunter lifestyle was a risky one, she knew that from the get go—hell, she was killed once already by Sam possessed by Lucifer himself, but still, she had never experienced such an excruciating loss like that before. To imagine losing the others, people she spent nearly every waking moment with, she didn't know if that was something she could come back from. Even if her encounter with Crowley was real, all it did was hurt right then because it was all speculation, no concrete fact for her to build her hope and faith upon.

She didn't know what was worse. Certainty in death or questionably alive?

The others returned with chains and Bobby and Dean were quick to handcuff him and she was relieved from her duty as guard. The two hauled the monster off to the interrogation cell and Sam hung back to check on her.

"Are you all right?"

His hand was a reassuring weight on her shoulder as she looked up at him. She tried to give an answering smile but it felt more like a grimace instead. Her acting must have been terrible because a flash of concern immediately crossed his face.

"Rose—"

Before he could ask anything else, she slipped her arms around him and settled into his side, hugging him tightly. She always forgot how small she was next to him. If it had been a normal day, she would've laughed at how comical they must look.

"I'm good," she answered, her voice muffled by his jacket. "Just happy that you guys are okay…"

She felt his chest rise and then still, like he decided against whatever it was he was going to say. One hand softly came to rest on the back of her head while the other wrapped around her and he gave her a small hug in comfort.

"I'm glad you're okay too."

Taking a breath, she stepped away and this time she managed a small smile before turning to lead the way to the interrogation room.

They joined Dean on the other side of the one way glass, watching as Bobby worked the monster for information. Judging from Dean's face, they hadn't gotten anything yet.

"So, you boys are Eve's cleaning crew? Is that it?" asked Bobby, slowly stalking around the restrained Starship, twirling a silver knife. "You come around to clean up the bodies, make sure that the word doesn't get out, huh? Is that why you snatched up the doctor?"

"You're so wasting your time," chuckled the sheriff. "You stupid head of cattle."

There was an abrupt sound of movement in a different part of the station.

"More Starships."

Immediately, Rose's hand was on her gun but Sam had already put his arm out in front of her, his gaze forward.

"Stay here," he instructed.

There wasn't any room for debate, so she nodded and made sure that her gun was loaded and ready to go as the two brothers disappeared out of the room.

Some time passed as they waited for the boys to come back. Both Castiel and Bobby were trying to get the Starship to give up information and from she could hear it wasn't going well. Her back was to the room as she kept her eyes forward and remained on alert, her finger curled around the trigger. It had been quiet for quite some time now which only worried her further. What was taking them so long?

As if the universe heard her thoughts, a door to her left opened and she started to bring her gun up, only stopping when it was Dean coming through.

"Got a couple of hungry human boys here," he called out to them, two boys following him. "C'mon guys."

Sam nodded for her to come over and she stowed her weapon, hurrying over. She hung back with Sam as Dean scrounged around to find the young boys something to eat.

"What's going on? Who're the kids?" Rose whispered in confusion, looking at the kids again.

"They're Dr. Silver's boys. Joe and Ryan," Sam answered, keeping his voice low too. Her brow furrowed.

"His kids? What were they doing here?"

"We don't know yet. They were just tied up in one of the holding cells in the back."

She turned so that her back was to the young boys and she looked up at Sam with concern.

"So then…what made the noise?"

"What?"

"You said they were tied up right? Hands tied, mouths gagged, the whole nine?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"So then what made the noise?" she repeated. "If they were tied up, then what made the sound that you guys went back there to investigate?"

Dean came back with some food and they had to put their conversation on hold while they turned their full attention to Dr. Silver's boys. Sam started to ask the questions, trying to find out what happened.

"So you two never heard them talk about a mother or someone named Eve?"

Joe gave a small shake of his head. "It was just me and Ryan in there…"

"And your folks?" asked Dean.

Joe's gaze lowered. "Cops said we were next…They said we were food."

Sam and Dean shared a look, one of those brother mind-reader moments and Rose found herself biting her thumbnail in worry. She could feel where this was going and it made her very nervous. It was just too weird for the boys to be here, randomly tied up and held in a cell, and _what the hell was the noise_? What alerted them to the boys in the first place? If they were tied up then they shouldn't have been able to make a loud enough sound. It was all lining up too nicely.

"You have any other family?" asked Dean.

"An uncle. In Meritt," answered Joe.

"Meritt. What's that, like fifteen miles outside of town?" he guessed. Joe nodded.

"Okay, we'll get you there."

Castiel stepped forward. "Dean. Can I have a word?"

While those two stepped to the side, Rose quickly wrapped her hand around Sam's arm and led him in the opposite direction. Size difference or not, she could make the larger man follow her when she needed to.

"What's wrong?" asked Sam. She glanced back at the kids, keeping her voice hushed again.

"This isn't a good idea," she told him. "Something is _wrong_ here."

"Yeah, two boys have had their parents killed and have been held hostage by monsters. There's been a lot of things wrong today," Sam argued.

"That's not what I mean," she said. "Yes, it is a terrible, terrible thing that's happened to them, but I'm not talking about that. Why were the two of them spared? Why wouldn't these Starships eat them on first chance? Or, more likely, why wouldn't they turn them into Starships too?"

"Dean and I ran the tests before we brought them out," he reasoned. "They didn't react to any of it. They're clear, Rose."

She ran her hands through her hair, taking a shaky breath. "I don't like this, Sam. It's too…perfect."

He allowed his confusion to show, incredulous even. "Perfect how?"

"I don't know—all of this!" she exasperated, struggling to keep her voice low. "We're supposed to be cracking this Starship for Eve's location, to kill the big bad Mother of All, and now, suddenly, there's a pair of traumatized brothers who need rescuing like some sort of side-quest?"

"Rose—"

"And speaking of Starships—Eve's just been Frankenstein-ing her way through this town trying to build some combo-monster for some reason? Why would she pass on two random boys that she's already captured?"

"Rose," Sam tried again, gently grabbing her shoulders. She did her best to stop her rambling, more words wanting to escape her in her worry. Those green eyes kept steady contact with her and she made herself take another breath.

"Please don't go," she pleaded. "We can secure them here until everything settles down and then take them to their uncle's. After, not before. Please."

"It'll be okay," Sam tried to reassure her. "We'll be there and back before you know it. When all of this wraps up here we can swing by to check on them, just to be sure."

"Sam—"

"They passed all the tests, we checked them thoroughly before bringing them out. Trust me, we'll be right back," he promised. He gave a small reassuring smile and squeezed her shoulders before turning to join Dean and the boys.

She and Castiel could only look on as the Winchesters escorted Dr. Silver's boys out of the station. The two met each other's gaze and she asked,

"Do you have a bad feeling about this too?"

The angel curtly answered, "Yes."

"Super…"

Bobby came to collect them in order to get some assistance in getting the Starship to fess up Eve's coordinates. Since they had time to kill until the boys got back, they had to make use of what time they did have and get the monster to give up the Mother's information. The sheriff was particularly amused with their tactics, his face bloodied and starting to swell but he laughed anyway.

"You're wasting your time," he chuckled. "You know she can see you right now? And you're just makin' her mad."

Rose had the slender silver knife twirling in her hand and she placed the tip up in his left nostril. Even though he stilled, she flicked her wrist and the sharp edge cut through his nose with hardly any resistance. He pulled his head back with a hiss as fresh blood rushed down his face.

"I say we go with my plan," she suggested to Bobby, twirling the knife deftly again, "and we just start cutting. Beginning with the pieces that stick out."

It wasn't her usual method, but the mess was becoming bigger with each moment they failed to locate Eve. Who knew what the Mother of All could be doing with the time she had?

Before Bobby could play into the personas they were going with, Castiel's voice sounded from the doorway.

"I need five minutes alone with him."

The hunters shared a concerned look. They knew full well that the angel's powers were cut off while they were in the small town. What was his plan?

"Five minutes."

At his insistence, they left him alone with the Jefferson Starship.

She and Bobby moved into the general area of the station to take their break. Rose took a seat on a desk while Bobby took a swig from his flask he had stashed in his coat. He offered her the small container and, after a short pause, she accepted it. The amber liquid burned its way down her throat and she squeezed her eyes shut as she handed it back to the older hunter.

"How're you holdin' up, kid?" he asked.

"Stellar," she coughed. "You?"

"Ditto. Just preparing to go fight the Mother of every monster in creation. The usual."

She gave a weak giggle at the grumpy humor, bringing her legs up to sit cross legged on the desk. "Just another day at the office, huh?"

"Don't I know it," he gruffed, taking another drink. As he lowered his flask, he kept his gaze on her. "You sure you're all right? You've been a little out of sorts today."

"Oh…" she bowed her head, eyes finding the floor to focus on instead. Here she thought she was keeping herself together. "Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I just wanna make sure that you're okay," he explained, tucking the flask away. "You can always talk to me, y'know."

She bit down on her bottom lip, thinking over his offer. He was right. She had always been upfront with the hunter about everything. Lying had never been an option, she couldn't bring herself to do so to a man who had done so much for her. He took her into his home. Taught her how to be a hunter, how to research monsters, even broadening her language skills as well. She couldn't lie to him.

"I had a dream about Crowley. The night Cas used my soul to bring the boys back," she admitted quietly.

"Is that unusual?" he asked, not missing a beat. "You were pretty broken up about him."

She nodded. "I haven't had a normal dream ever since Lucifer was sent back to the Cage. Only nightmares of Hell. So, to…to see him again…it hurt. If that makes any sense…"

"'Course it does. It was a serious loss for you, so to see him again only aggravated the hurt further," he rationalized. "I know what you're talking about. To see a loved one after losing them, no matter how long ago, it brings that hurt to the surface. Makes it fresh."

She watched as Bobby's eyes seemed to have a faraway look for a moment and she gave a small, sympathetic smile in return. She knew he was thinking about his wife. He never really mentioned her unless it was necessary and she respected his privacy regarding his past. It was a silent understanding between them.

"Exactly," she agreed. "It's just put me on edge, worrying about everyone else as we search for Eve. I just…I just don't want to lose anyone else—"

The door was thrown open and Castiel walked into the room, wiping off his blood stained hands.

"Eve's at 25 Buckley Street," he informed them solemnly. "You can call Sam and Dean."

* * *

Their breaths came out in frosted puffs of air as they made their way down the street, armed with guns, knives, and their own know-how. Sam and Dean both had a duffle tossed over their shoulder while the others had their jackets lined with their choice weapons. They came to a stop at the destination, stunned by the building occupying 25 Buckley Street.

Ervin's Diner.

"You've gotta be kidding me," said Dean. "She's been in there the whole time?"

"Why'd she ever let us in?" asked Sam.

Rose added quietly, "Or out…"

"There's one way to find out," decided Dean.

"What, just stroll in?" snarked Bobby. "We don't know who's human or who's her."

A beat.

"Well, there's one way to draw her out."

Rose immediately began to protest, "Dean—"

"Look," he interrupted, "if we don't get a shot off, you three better."

"So that's the plan?" asked Bobby.

"Yeah. Pretty much."

The girl shook her head. "I don't like this plan…"

"Well, it's the one we've got," he said, steeling his determination.

Sam handed her his duffle while Dean kept one between them. Rose knew her face was pale as she quietly pleaded,

"Be careful."

He gave a nod in promise before turning to follow Dean, the two figures disappearing into the diner in a couple of long legged strides. A shiver danced up her spine and she tightened her grip on her sawed off shotgun, the duffle a reassuring weight on her shoulder. The three of them stepped closer together, tightening their formation so to watch each other's back. She took care to pay extra attention to Castiel's side. The angel said so himself that he was inexperienced with firearms so she needed to take that into account.

Worriedly, she kept her gaze flickering back toward the diner, their surroundings, and then to her own gun. She hoped they only came across regular monsters, if anything. While her weapon was loaded, she knew that her gun did not have one of the five phoenix ash shells.

God, she hoped her gamble paid off.

" _Hey, Dean, can I borrow you for a second?" she asked. He followed her to a different part of the station while the others double checked the supplies._

" _What's up, Red?" he asked. She took a breath, doing her best to keep her thoughts and words in line._

" _Listen, I wanted—I wanted to talk to you about a contingency plan," she told him. He gave a nod, folding his arms across his chest as he met her gaze._

" _All right, I'm all ears. What do you got?" he asked._

 _Thrilled that he was taking her worry seriously, she launched into her explanation._

" _Now—I don't know if this would work, but I think it's worth a shot, especially since something like a shotgun can be taken away from you. If they get ahold of the gun, then what? Hopefully fight until you can get it back?"_

" _That's normally how it goes," he agreed. "Do you have a different idea?"_

 _She grimaced. "Sort of—not exactly—but it's something that could help, I think. Just as a kind of backup, a just-in-case."_

" _Okay, so let's hear it."_

 _Fumbling with her pocket, she pulled out her phoenix ash shell for him to see._

" _You showed us that the ash doesn't hurt, like how silver hurts shifters but not humans."_

" _Yeah, kinda going in on a prayer."_

" _Right, but either way it doesn't hurt you," she continued. "Now, I wish I could offer this idea to everyone but I don't know if one shell could make a difference when split among five people."_

 _He raised an eyebrow in interest. "So why'd you pick me and not Sammy?"_

 _She gave a weak laugh. "Well, you tend to run your mouth more."_

 _The eldest Winchester gave a half snort at her admittance, a small smile pulling at his mouth. "All right. I'll give you that one. So what's your plan, Red?"_

 _She held the shell out for him to take._

" _My plan…is for you to ingest the ash. Down it with some whiskey and that way you're a walking grenade if Eve tries to take you out herself."_

 _His brow furrowed in concern._

" _That means you'll be walking into this without a shot in hell of stopping her."_

" _I know." She gave a tight smile in return, tossing him the shell which he caught without any effort. "But…someone's got to keep you two kickin'."_

The shades covering the diner's window started to close fully, one exposed pane of glass after the other. Well, that certainly wasn't good.

"Shit," she cursed.

"That's our cue," decided Bobby. "Time to go in."

The three started to move toward the restaurant, the shotguns locking into place. They had only just stepped onto the street to cross when there was the sound of squealing tires tearing through the night.

Bright lights suddenly flooded the area and they hurried to get together, bumping into each other's to try and make certain that everyone was covered. Rose brought her gun up and aimed, but the headlights were too bright on all sides and all she could see immediately was white. Next came the rushing of footsteps and she took her stance, waiting for a figure to come into some kind of focus, finger curled around the trigger.

Instead, she felt Bobby and Castiel's bodies vanish from her side.

"Guys?!"

When she turned to try and look, her gun was ripped from her hands and the butt of her own gun was used to strike her square in the face. Her head snapped back from the force and her knees buckled but she didn't hit the ground. Hands wrapped around her upper arms tightly and began to drag her away.

Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as she was yanked around. Vision still clouded with stars and her nose bleeding freely, most likely broken, she was still heavily disoriented as they moved. There was a slam of a door and she was dimly aware that they were standing in the diner. With considerably more effort than was normally necessary, she could see Bobby and Castiel restrained in a similar manner to her. Next, she saw Sam and Dean sitting at the bar, staring at them with wide eyes.

"I'm older than you, Castiel, I know what makes angels tick," said a woman with blonde hair to the angel. Rose had to squint and fight through the nauseating pain radiating from the center of her face. The woman was wearing the uniform of the diner. Assuming it was Eve, she was hiding out in the diner the whole time? She was just a few feet away from them when they had lunch earlier that day. Why didn't she just kill them then?

"As long as I'm around, consider yourself…unplugged," Eve smiled at the angel. She turned her attention back to the boys, slipping to the other side of the counter.

"Work for me. It's a good deal."

The brothers didn't answer and Eve rolled her eyes with a huff.

"Bonus, I won't kill your friends."

The monster holding Rose tightened his hold on her arms ever so slightly in quiet dislike. That wasn't reassuring.

"All right, look," said Dean, "the last few months, we've been working for an evil dick. We're not about to sign up for an evil bitch. We don't work with demons. We don't work with monsters. And if that means you gotta kill us, then kill us."

Eve's expression became dangerously calm and she leveled the boys with a look of her own.

"Or...I turn you and you do what I want anyway."

Rose tried to yank herself free but the monster holding her only pulled her back with their bruising grip, keeping her trapped in place as her head spun.

Dean didn't so much as flinch.

"Beat me with a wire hanger, answer's still no."

Her breath caught in her throat as Eve suddenly appeared behind Dean in a burst of speed, Sam getting to his feet too late and other monsters quickly restrained him as well. Eve's nails were digging into his shoulders and she was too close to his neck for the girl's comfort.

"Don't test me."

Dean turned ever so slightly, green eyes daring the Mother of All to act.

"Bite me."

She moved too fast to see but Rose felt her world dare to tilt when it registered to her that Eve's teeth were deep in the hunter's neck. All thought of her back up plan was thrown from her mind. It didn't seem well-planned now. All she could see was her friend being hurt and nothing else seemed to matter. She threw all of her weight and strength against the monster, managing to break one arm free, but it wasn't enough and she couldn't help but scream out, her voice blending with Sam and Castiel's.

" _Dean!_ "

Eve ripped herself away from him, bringing her hand up to her mouth as she began to cough. The hunter pushed himself to his feet, one hand covering the wound on his neck, applying pressure as he turned to face Eve. The woman was starting to heave, a strange glow lighting up with her chest.

"Phoenix ash," he said, catching his breath. He held up the empty shell for her to see. "One shell. One ounce of whiskey, down the hatch. Little musty on the after burn."

Eve clutched at her chest, wheezing as the light within began to burn brighter.

"Call you later, mom."

Eve began to crumple, her knees shaking. The whole diner seemed to rumble as she gagged and heaved. Her image changed from the blonde woman to a young girl with dark brown hair. Black ooze began to crawl down her chin while her skin became mottled with black, almost like a poisoned latticework across her skin. Grey liquid even began to roll down her face from her hairline, almost like she really was being burned from the inside out by the phoenix ash.

Rose could only stare wide eyed in horror at the unfolding scene. While there was relief that this fight was over, it was still so startling to see her die in such a manner. The monsters restraining them began to shuffle and squirm, unable to help. They were all sharing the same wavelength, some unexplained psychic connection to their creator. In the back of her mind, she did feel a twang of sympathy for them.

As soon as Eve dropped the ground, all of the Starships jumped into action and Rose had to struggle again, all previous thoughts gone. She couldn't risk getting bitten, stabbed, or scratched by the monster hybrids.

Castiel's voice shouted out in an order.

"Shut your eyes!"

Not taking any chances, Rose squeezed her eyes closed and hardly a second later there was a bright light filling the room with what felt like the force of the sun. It was so bright that stars filled her vision when she dared to open her eyes when she felt the monsters that had their hands on her drop to the ground.

"We gotta take you on more monster hunts," commented Bobby, his voice breaking the new silence.

Rubbing her eyes, Rose could see the diner littered with bodies, their eyes all burned out of their sockets. The angel and the hunters were the only ones left standing and she watched her step so to join up with the others.

"Hey, Cas," said Sam, "Dean's bleeding pretty good."

Dean had dropped back onto the bar stool, his neck still bleeding and infected. "I think she turned me into a Jefferson Starship. Could you clear that up too?"

With a touch to his shoulder, Dean's hand came away to reveal that his neck was totally clear. Rose moved toward him but was brought to a halt when Cas stood in front of her. His fingertips bussed her forehead and she was suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation of being able to inhale properly, sweet oxygen filling her lungs easily. She gingerly touched her nose to find it corrected and no longer tender.

"Thanks, Cas," she told him, grateful.

Dean got to his feet and he looped an arm around her and brought her in to his side for a quick squeeze of a hug.

"Thanks," he said. "Really covered my ass there, Red."

She gave a weak laugh. "Well, let's—let's be done pissing off boss monsters, 'kay?"

"No promises," he chuckled, ruffling her hair. His humor faded as he looked back to the angel, face becoming serious again. "We gotta go. Now."

"What? Why?"

"Where?" asked Castiel, brow knitting in confusion. Dean grimaced.

"The kid. The little kid, he's one of them."

"Unbelievable," exasperated the angel.

"Yeah, I know, Cas. You told me, all right? Let's just go."

Castiel gave a disappointed shake of his head, keeping his words to himself, and within the span of a breath they were suddenly in a living room.

A man's blood was splayed out on the floor, his body soaked in blood.

"So we kill the wicked witch and she still wins. I mean, they could've turned half the town by now!" He brought a finger up to stop Castiel from speak. "Don't say it."

They began to look around for any kind of clue as to where they could've gone. How far could they have gotten? It had been maybe an hour, maybe two, tops, that they had been dropped off at their uncle's house.

Bobby called out to them.

"Found them."

She and Sam shared a confused look before hurrying over to Bobby who was opening what looked like a door to the basement. When they came around to the front Rose covered her mouth to quiet her gasp. Monster or not, it was still two young boys strewn out on the staircase covered in blood, clearly having been stabbed in the heart. She clenched her jaw tightly, doing her best to keep her frustrations at bay. God, they were just children…

"Well, who ganked them?" asked Dean. Sam caught sight of something and bent down to swipe his fingers across the floor. His fingertips came away with a yellow powder substance.

"Sulfur," she identified, albeit confused. "Demons?"

"Looks like it," he answered, getting back to his feet. "So what do you think?"

"I think," began Dean, "that demons don't give a crap about monster tweens unless they're told to."

"So you think she was telling the truth?"

Rose allowed her confusion to be obvious. "I'm sorry, the truth about what?"

Dean took a beat, looking to the angel. "Eve said that Crowley's still kicking."

Her heart gave a painful lurch at his words and she forgot how to breathe for the moment.

Castiel was stunned and he narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. "But I burned his bones. How—? Was she certain?"

"Sounded pretty sure," answered Dean. "According to her, Crowley's still waterboarding her kids somewhere."

"I don't understand…"

"Well, he's a crafty son of a bitch."

Rose could hardly hear what they were saying, her own mind reeling and racing all at once.

" _I do apologize for the smoke and mirrors, all necessary in the long run I'm afraid—"_

" _I saw you die!"_

 _He looked surprised by her sudden shout but she couldn't stop the emotional upheaval within her that threatened to drown her. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she found herself moving closer to the demon. She could feel the warmth in the air that happened only when he was there and her heart only raced faster, ignoring her increasing lightheadedness. All of her emotions were crashing into her, wave after wave. Relief, agony, joy, frustration, betrayal, all in a seemingly never ending vortex within her heart, making her chest feel tight._

" _A necessity, as I said—"_

" _A necessity?!" she repeated, not caring if her voice rose. "I watched you die, Crowley! I saw you turn to ash with my own eyes that day and every night since! And now—and now, you're standing here like—like it was nothing?!"_

It wasn't a dream. He really was there, right in front of her. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to make sense of it all. Smoke and mirrors…so it was all for show, his death…but it was Castiel who actually burned the bones…

"I'm angel," Castiel told them firmly. "I'll look into it immediately."

Just like that, he was gone again and the hunters were left in the too still home.

"Cas," called Dean. He huffed in annoyance. "Well, let us know what you find out!"

Sam led the way back into the living room and Rose felt Bobby's hand gently at her elbow, steering her along with them. She gave an appreciative nod, bringing her focus to the situation at hand. She had to pay attention.

A few moments passed and the silence became tense.

Dean noticed the strange lack of conversation and asked, "What?"

"How did Crowley get away?" asked Bobby, not bothering to beat around the bush. "I mean, it's not like Cas to make mistakes like that, unless…"

The implication was left to interpretation but Dean pressed on.

"Unless what?"

"Unless he meant to," he finished. The oldest Winchester was stunned by what was being said.

"Bobby, this is Cas we're talking about." He turned to look at both Sam and Rose. "Do you guys believe this?"

Sam was quiet for a moment and Rose felt her face steadily pale as a thought came to mind. One glaring fact she couldn't overlook.

"A-actually…"

"What is it?" asked Dean. She took a shaky breath, glancing worriedly as she tried to figure out the best words to use. She didn't want to be right but she couldn't ignore the nagging realization.

"Okay, hear me out," she began. "Say Castiel didn't know and Crowley tricked him. Fine. But my…my main question is, even if he was fooled by Crowley, how could he ignore me?"

"What do you mean, you?" asked Dean, confused.

"I—I mean, my soul," she clarified. "From the very beginning, Castiel could see Crowley's mark on my soul due to our contract. That's what got me in trouble in the first place, remember? He could see it just by looking at me, plain as day."

"'Kay, I'm following," nodded Sam.

"So, we thought when Crowley died that my contract was lifted," she continued on, "but if he's been alive this whole time, then the mark on my soul is still there. So it stands to reason…that Castiel's been able to see it this whole time as well…"

"Crowley could've hidden the mark somehow," Dean defended. "The dude's a douche but he's smart."

"Dean, Cas just had his hand on Rose's soul just a couple of days ago," Bobby countered. "If there was anything hidden, he would've found it."

A very uncomfortable silence filled the room as the heaviness of the situation settled onto everyone's shoulders.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Your thoughts would be loved as always! So a little bit of everything here as the team kills Eve and Crowley is officially revealed as being alive. Lots of thoughts and emotions from Rose too.**

 **I know the chapters have been pretty strictly following the episodes, but I can assure you guys that this won't be the case for much longer. Trust me, we'll be branching away and I really appreciate your patience as I set the groundwork for the next arch. I'm hoping to get the s6 finale written in a timely manner because I'm super excited for what's coming for this story and can't wait to share it with you guys!**

 **Next time: The Man Who Knew Too Much (season finale!)**

 **Hope you enjoy!**


	18. Chapter 18

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

The wind was biting at her exposed skin and Rose drew the oversized jacket tighter, folding her arms to try and keep her hands warm too. The seasons were swiftly changing from fall to winter, hardly any colored leaves left on the tree branches. She even had her hair half down to keep the back of her neck warm as she waited. Her cheeks were turning pink, the tip of her nose too, as she mentally debated with herself.

She shouldn't be tempting fate. She should just run her errand and go back home to the boys but she couldn't shake off the foolish idea. Her breath came out in a sigh, the puff of frosted air leaving her lips.

"Crowley."

His name was said softly as she leaned against the side of the old car from the salvage yard that she used to get around town. Currently, she was pulled off in an empty parking lot next to a building that had been out of business for as long as she knew. With the weather changing again, there wasn't enough foot traffic to cause her any concern.

She felt the warmth before she saw him.

Turning her head to the side, she was greeted by the King of Hell in his typical black ensemble. Hands in his pockets, he tilted his head ever so slightly and smirked.

"You rang, darling?"

Her chest felt tight and light all at once and her eyes dared to water. It was so surreal to see him again, as plain as day. Like nothing was ever wrong. Unable to work her voice, she didn't bother to restrain herself as she moved toward him. Her body met his with a crash and she threw her arms around him as she buried her face in his shoulder. The warmth that she longed for seeped through her layers of clothing, warming her to the very bone and she couldn't help the small muffled cry that escaped her.

One hand came to rest on her back, the heat settling between her shoulder blades.

"I suppose you're not going to yell at me this time then?"

She shook her head with a watery laugh, breathless. "No, no…I'm just—so happy that you're alive…!"

If possible, she tightened her embrace and the material of his coat was rough against her cheek but she didn't care, taking in everything about the moment so that she couldn't possibly forget again. The feel of his body against hers, the scent of fire and ash, the low chuckle as he was amused by her words.

"That makes two of us."

He shifted slightly and his hand came up beneath her chin, making her look up at him. Hazel eyes were looking down at her with a new kind of interest. She couldn't quite read his expression but she was attentive nonetheless.

"Let me ask you, darling," he began. "What is it you want to accomplish with our meetings?"

"Accomplish?" she repeated. "What do you mean?"

His hand moved to cradle her jaw, his thumb brushing against her cheek and she found herself leaning into his touch.

"I mean," he continued, his voice low, "what do you want from me?"

She looked up to him again in confusion. Never once did she call him because she wanted something. Such superficial reasoning made her stomach flip with nausea. She only wanted to see him. Nothing else.

"I don't—I don't want anything…Crowley, I've ever only wanted you."

He stilled for the briefest of moments, but it was there, no matter how slight. He then continued,

"So, you're saying you didn't call for this rendezvous to try and stop me from going after Purgatory?"

Her pulse skittered at the assumption and she stood up straighter so to better look him in the eye, her hands still resting at his sides, lightly holding onto his coat. That certainly was a very valid reason and one that made her heart heavy with concern. She very much wanted to ask him to stop his search for Purgatory. It was that pursuit that brought Eve to Earth and her plan to turn every human into a monster. The fact that no one else had cracked open the door to the monster afterlife had her worried that it was for a very bad reason. It was safer to keep it closed and locked up tight.

"Would you listen to me if I did?" she asked him softly, her gaze never straying. He was quiet for a moment as he studied her, his thumb brushing her cheek again. His voice was low when he answered, just above a whisper,

"I would take your opinion into consideration."

She was surprised by the admittance, her eyes widening ever so slightly at his words. The fact that he would give anything she had to say any weight was an impressive concession. He was the demon holding her contract and now King of Hell. He didn't have to listen to what she said or come when she called. She knew that their relationship was not normal by any means.

"Then…please, stop going after Purgatory," she asked of him.

"And how do you propose we stop Raphael?" he asked in return. "The archangel is hell bent on opening the Cage so that Michael and Lucifer can bring the Apocalypse down on us again. Not to mention that he would most likely want to kill me for the rest of eternity for being even slightly in the way of his grand scheme."

"I wouldn't let him," she told him firmly, her grip tightening and she edged closer. "The boys managed to stop the original Apocalypse and bring down _Lucifer_. An archangel with an attitude problem and a power trip shouldn't be an issue."

"I must say, you're fire is certainly uplifting," chuckled Crowley. He brought his hand up and brushed some rebellious strands away from her face. "Just about as vibrant as your hair."

A blush dared to color her cheeks as she scolded him meekly, "Y-you're changing the subject…"

"That I am," he agreed. "I can assure you that I am taking every precaution with this plan, darling. When Raphael is removed from the equation, the extra souls would also benefit my position in the long run. Happy endings all around."

"Your position?" Rose asked. "You're already King, what more could you need?"

"Consider it job security," he said. "Not everyone is thrilled with my new status. Lucifer loyalists especially."

"It must be shocking, not having everybody like you."

His mouth twitched in amusement.

"Are you being smart with me, Rosette?"

"I'm always smart," she said, trying not to break her faux-seriousness with a laugh. "But yes, I'm giving you a hard time, your majesty."

He made an interested sound deep within his throat at her form of address as he continued to look down at her. His hand slowly moved beneath her chin again and he tilted her further upward. Her throat felt exposed, especially with the wind's chill against her skin.

"Now I do like the sound of _that_ ," he seemed to purr. If possible, she felt the heat between them increase and she welcomed it wholeheartedly, the winter's chill erased from her completely. Blue and hazel didn't dare stray from each other as the distance between them seemed to shrink. She couldn't tell who started to move first but she felt herself leaning in toward him. Her eyes fluttered close and soon the space between them was gone.

The sensation was soft and she wanted nothing more than to melt into the moment. Sadly, the kiss was ended all too soon in her opinion. His forehead bussed against hers and she felt his hand move to the back of her neck, his fingers threading through her loose hair. Her name was a murmur on his lips.

"Rosette…"

She dared to lean in, their lips scarcely brushing. Her heart was beating so hard within her chest she would be surprised if the demon couldn't hear it himself. Her hands dared to tremble and her mind was a swirl of emotions tangled with words that she couldn't pick apart. There was so much that she wanted to say but she couldn't find the right way to say it.

"Crowley…" She squeezed her eyes shut, her pulse racing as her breath caught in her chest. "I—"

The demon carefully leaned away and her words faltered, dying in her throat as she looked back up at him. His hands slowly left her and returned to his pockets while she lowered her own, albeit reluctantly, clasping together in front of her. Now he was looking at their surroundings.

"I suppose it's safe to assume that you and the Hardy Boys are going to proceed with your plan to stop me?" he asked, not looking directly at her. His tone wasn't unkind, but more as if he was stating a fact.

"Yes," she answered softly. "It's the right thing to do."

He did scoff at that remark in particular. "The right thing to do?"

"It'll keep you safe too," she added. "I don't expect you to suddenly stop your plan just because I asked you to. I'm not naïve."

Crowley turned back to her, his gaze settling on her again. "I never said that you were."

A small smile pulled at her mouth. "I just want to keep everyone safe, Crowley. That means you too."

He let loose a sigh, bringing his hand up to tuck another strand of red hair behind her ear.

"There you go again, being far too kind, my darling."

Her heart seemed to skip a beat at the term of possession, a new blush coloring her cheeks. Judging by his smirk, he knew that she picked up on the subtle change.

"As much as I enjoy our little secret meetings, I do have a kingdom to run and a Purgatory to crack open," he informed her, lowering his hand once more.

"And I've got to get back to stopping you," she said in return. They both shared a knowing look. They understood that they were on opposite sides of the fight for Purgatory.

"Be seeing you, Rosette."

"I hope so, Crowley."

The King of Hell turned on his heel and vanished within the span of a heartbeat. Rose couldn't help but sigh, her shoulders dropping.

"I love you…" she whispered, a hint of frost exhaling as the cold returned to her, the previous warmth already ebbing away. She gave a little groan as the words hung in the empty air. She muttered out loud to no one in particular, frustrated at her own reluctance, "Now why couldn't I say that earlier?"

Shaking her head, she got back into the car, heading off to do the errands she told the boys she was tending to. As she drove away, she was unaware of the angel that was hidden from view, having witnessed the entire exchange between her and the demon king.

* * *

The easy listening music playing in the laboratory was a stark contrast to the cadaver, vampire hostage, and the melee of torturing instruments that were scattered about the place in a methodical fashion, and that was the way he liked things. The music was there to fill the silence, occasionally to blend over the subject's screaming, but mostly just for his own personal enjoyment. With his line of work he needed to be exact, so music that had sudden and large changes didn't do well for someone trying to perform brain surgery.

He was already back in his normal routine, blood stained apron and all, when Castiel entered the room.

"Howdy, partner,"" he greeted, barely glancing up from his work on Eve's brain. She was already cracked open on his table, main incisions done and her chest cavity pried open. This wasn't the way they were supposed to find out information. He had planned a variety of interesting ways to pull the answers from the Mother of All and it would have been extraordinarily satisfying to have her spill her beloved secrets to Purgatory herself.

"What have you found?" he asked. Of course, the angel wasn't one for conversation but every once in a while it would be nice to hear a proper greeting in return.

"Found a lot of things," he answered. "For example, Eve's brain, dead as a tin kipper. And yet…"

He delved his hand deep into her chest, scooping up a squelching, large handful of soft, murky gray eggs.

"…for some reason, she keeps laying eggs."

Castiel came closer as he cleaned his hands.

"Now, watch this," he said, picking up a slender spike he had the point heating up over a flame for quite some time. Glancing over to the restrained vampire, he slowly brought the point of the tool closer to Eve as it whimpered in protest. When the heated tip touched Eve's brain, despite its inactivity, the vampire still convulsed as if it was feeling the pain as well. It only stopped thrashing and crying out against its gag when he removed the instrument from her.

"Chocula here feels every tickle."

"What is that good for?" Castiel asked.

"Apart from the obvious erotic value, you got me."

The angel's agitation was starting to slip through. "You said Eve could open the door to Purgatory."

"Correct. I did," he agreed, his even voice raising. "And I'm confident that she could have if she were still alive! Single best chance to get over the rainbow and the Winchesters killed her!"

"It was unavoidable," he excused, beginning to pace away.

"You screwed up, Cas," Crowley growled, his frustrations coming to a boil as well. They both wanted to be done with their long term project. "You let the hounds mangle the pheasant and now I am up to my elbows in it."

"What is your point?"

"The point is you're distracted and that makes me nervous," he answered, studying him carefully. If the angel was off course from their task, that could mean big trouble for him. All their work, for nothing.

"I am holding up my end."

"Ah, yes. But is that all you're holding, huh?" he tutted, stepping closer. He knew exactly where he had been, the smell was unmistakable. It was like whiskey, gasoline, and angst. "See… the stench of that Impala's all over your overcoat, angel. I thought we'd agreed. No more nights out with the boys."

"I spoke with Dean. I needed to know what they know," he excused again.

"About what?" he pressed. "About me, maybe? Because I happen to have it on good authority that your two little pets are currently trying to hunt me down!"

His voice rang throughout the laboratory at the end of his outburst. There was a small pause of silence as Castiel didn't respond.

"Forgive me, but I think you might have a little conflict of interest here," he informed the angel, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice. He gave a twirl of the spike and buried it in Eve's brain, the vampire crying out and convulsing again.

Castiel spoke up, "Would this "good authority" of yours happen to be Rosette?"

Crowley raised an intrigued eyebrow. "You know I can't hand out my employee's information. That's just not good business."

"Because it was Rose's plan that caused Eve's death," he continued. "A contingency plan, she called it."

The demon didn't miss a beat. "Well, she certainly is a clever one."

With a sickening sound, he pulled the spike from Eve's brain. "I'm begging you, Castiel. Just kill the Winchesters."

"No."

"Fine. Then I'll do it myself."

"If you kill them, I'll bring them back again."

"No, you won't. Not where I'll put them. Trust me."

"So you would kill Rose as well? She's just as much involved as Sam and Dean."

His grip tightened ever so slightly on the instrument. "Like you said, her contract is long overdue. Sounds like a win-win to me."

"Still, I said no," Castiel said firmly. He let loose a small sigh. "Don't worry about them."

The thought was absolutely ludicrous and he couldn't help but scoff at the idea.

"Don't worry about—What, like Lucifer didn't worry? Or Michael? Or Lilith or Alastair or Azazel didn't worry? " he asked, his voice rising again. "Am I the only game piece on the board that doesn't underestimate those denim wrapped nightmares?!"

Castiel didn't so much as flinch at his outburst.

"Just find Purgatory," he instructed. "If you don't, we will both die. Again and again, until the end of time."

He turned to leave, his steps light against the tile floor as he spoke over his shoulder.

"The Winchesters won't get to you."

"Let them get to me," Crowley dared. "I'll tear their friggin' hearts out!"

* * *

" _If there's a snowball of a snowball's chance here, that means we're dealing with a Superman who's gone dark side. Which means we've gotta be cautious. We gotta be smart. And maybe stock up on some kryptonite."_

They didn't know it then, but that would be conversation that tipped them off to Castiel's allegiance with Crowley. They had been following a lead they had pulled from a hunter demon to capture "the dispatcher" that was sending out demons on their hunts, collecting the monsters that could potentially open up Purgatory. The dispatcher was named Ellsworth, and by the time they had gotten to his hideout, the place was already vacated. Dean kicked down the door and they immediately rushed in, only to find the place as clean as a whistle. As clean as the run down place could be anyway.

They had hardly called for Cas when they were jumped by demons. The fight was fast, hard, and short due to Castiel swooping in and smiting the demons before they had done any permanent damage. They were in the middle of apologizing to the angel about not telling him they were hunting Crowley.

" _It is a little absurd though. Superman going to the dark side. I'm still just Castiel."_

" _I guess we can put away the kryptonite, right?"_

" _Exactly."_

That was when they knew that the angel had been spying on them. Castiel was notoriously bad at catching references, whether they be book, movie, or pop culture, and the fact that he had made the same reference they had the day before wasn't a coincidence.

Castiel had been spying on them.

What came next was something Rose did not want to do. They had to trap the angel. Once called, they had tricked him into stepping forward and they lit up the ring of holy oil, creating holy fire and he was trapped within the circle, much like how they trapped Balthazar when they first met him.

That was when they were able to get the story out of him. He and Crowley had been working together to crack open Purgatory and to get their hands on the monster souls within. Castiel needed the boost in power to overthrow Raphael who was looking to restart the Apocalypse, even bringing Lucifer and Michael out of the Cage. On top of that, Castiel even admitted to raising Sam from perdition. Rose quickly brought her hand to Sam's elbow to steady him.

" _Did you bring me back soulless on purpose?"_

The angel looked hurt by the accusation.

Their conversation was cut short when they heard something approaching in the distance. The full moon that was once bright was quickly being covered by thick black smoke, filling the rest of the sky and focusing like a vortex on their location.

" _Run. You have to run, now. Run!"_

Sam grabbing the back of her jacket, the last of Castiel Rose saw was the angel of Thursday trapped in a ring of holy fire.

* * *

It seemed every time they took a step forward, they then took two step backwards.

Courtesy of Bobby's meticulous record keeping, they were able to recover the information from the journal Castiel stole the night before. Moishe Campbell of the New York Campbells stated in his journal about the dinner party of the one and only H.P. Lovecraft on March 10, 1937. Immediately interested, Rose hurried to go look over Sam's shoulder to read the entry.

"Am I supposed to know who that is?" asked Dean.

"Dude, he's one of the most renowned horror writers," explained Rose, looking at him in confusion.

" _At the Mountains of Madness, The Call of Cthulhu_ ," said Bobby, naming a few titles.

Judging by Dean's blank look, Rose added on, "Seriously? With all of your experiences with monsters, you've never checked out his work?"

"Yeah. No, I was too busy having sex with women," he teased.

Rose rolled her eyes with a scoff, going back to reading over Sam's shoulder. "Lame."

"Anyhow, there's one notion that come up over and over again in his stories," explained Bobby. "Namely, opening doors to other dimensions and letting scary crap through."

"So you're saying Lovecraft knows something about Purgatory?" guessed Sam.

Bobby shrugged. "All I know is Moishe paid him a visit."

"Sounds good to me," chirped Rose. "I'm Nancy Drew, you're the Hardy Boys. Always wanted to be in a mystery detective book."

That got a chuckle out of the boys but it was interrupted by Dean's phone ringing. He brought the phone to his ear and all previous signs of laughter fell from his face and turned gravely serious instead.

"Ben?...What?...What are they?...Did you see their eyes?...Teeth?...This is important, Ben, I need to know…'Kay, where are you now?...Can you get to your mom's closet, I left a shotgun in there..." He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to stay composed. "Okay, Ben, listen to me. Go to your window and jump…Any bones you break won't compare to what they're gonna do to you, Ben. You've got to jump…I'm coming right now, 'kay? I'm gonna get you and your mom, I promise…You with me, Ben?...Ben?...Ben?"

His eyes widened marginally and he got to his feet, green eyes turning steely.

"Crowley, let them go, now. Or I swear—…I'm going to kill you…I'm telling you, last chance to let them go easy…"

He slowly lowered the phone, his arm shaking as the dial tone hummed. The others all shared similar looks of confusion, Bobby speaking out first.

"Well? What's the story?"

"He said Lisa and Ben keep breathing as long as we sit on our thumbs," Dean gritted out.

Sam asked, "Do you think Cas knows about this?"

"We gotta assume he does," answered Dean.

"So…what're we going to do?" Rose asked softly. "I know we're not going to just sit here."

"I'm going after them," decided Dean, starting to cross the study.

"I'm going with," said Sam, following. He turned to stop him.

"No, Sam. You, Rose, and Bobby stay on the Lovecraft thing, okay? Cas is already way ahead of us."

"You've gotta be nuts if you think I'll let you go alone," argued Sam. "Bobby and Rose can take care of the case."

"Guys—" started Bobby but Dean interrupted.

"Bobby…this is a big ball, okay? We can't drop it now."

Rose nodded, stepping forward. "We'll take care of it, Dean."

"Fine," sighed Bobby. "Then how are you two gonna find Lisa and Ben?"

"We can make a few calls."

Rose and Bobby hit the road that same night, driving off as Sam and Dean got a summoning together to call for the angel Balthazar. With their bags packed, the girl and the older hunter were already mapping out their information trail and their cover stories. Bobby took care of the driving while Rose perched a flashlight on her shoulder as she worked on marking a route for them to take and continued to go through the information they did already have.

Their first stop was to a gentleman's house who proclaimed to have the most of H.P. Lovecraft's original letters. He didn't seem to be anyone dangerous, more of just a hardcore fan of the author. She and Bobby were dressed up nice in their overcoats and slicked back hair. Rose even put on a dab of make up to help look the part. They were posing as journalists, wanting to do an exposé on Lovecraft. Thus, it only made sense for them to talk to the man with largest collection of the man's private correspondence.

Bobby took the lead on asking question while Rose was posed with a little notepad and pen, taking the appearance of a serious understudy. When they asked if he had any letters about the dinner party of March 10, 1937 the man seemed to take special notice.

"Okay. Are you working on this with the other guy?" he asked.

"Other guy?"

"Yeah. You know, trench coat, looks like Columbo, talks like Rain Man?"

"Right," answered Bobby, giving a tight smile. "We're…competitors. Rival magazines."

Rose did her best to keep her outward appearance cool. Damn it, they were still behind Castiel. He had already been here and she would bet her left shoe that meant he had gone through the letters, whether or not the man knew about it was a different story.

"Alright, well, I'll tell you what I told him. Howard had a dinner party on March 10th."

"How many friends at this party?"

"Well, six…if by friends you mean co-worshippers in a black magic cult," he said. "They were getting together that night to perform a ritual. Something big."

"Define big."

"Not much, just open a door into another dimension," the man answered flippantly.

"Why would they do that?"

"To see what's out there. Maybe it's friendly?"

"It's never friendly." Bobby caught himself. "I mean, I imagine."

Rose spoke up. "So did it work? The spell?"

The man sat up a little straighter in his chair at her question. "Well, uh, there was no mention of Cthulhu in the morning papers, so…Actually, I do happen to have several letters detailing the dinner. Worst thing that was reported was a hangover."

He made his way over to his shelf brimming with books and folders, flipping through a couple.

"So it's—I've got them right here. Some—It's actually pretty interesting." He opened a large folder and faltered. "Um, and they were…They were right th—they were right here."

She sighed quietly. Cas had swiped them, of course. He couldn't leave them where they could possibly find them. She and Bobby got up from the spots on the old worm couch, and she flipped her notepad close, tucking the pen into her bun.

"Well, it's not like an invisible guy could just pop in and steal them, right?" said Bobby, half-joking for the guy's benefit.

"Right. Right…"

"I'll leave you to it and you call me if you find them, huh?"

"Thanks. Thanks again for dropping by…" the guy called as they made their way up the stairs.

While the letters had been a bust, the two were still able to research about the dinner and come up with a lead on their own. They were now making their way to a mental institution to question the only survivor of the party. All the other guests and Lovecraft himself were killed all within the span of a year. The only person who wasn't, was a young boy at the time, the maid son who was nine when the party happened. Rose had called to give Sam an update as they drove to the mental ward and to see how they were doing back home.

" _Slow going."_

She could only imagine how Dean was feeling, knowing that his family was in danger just to get the hunters out of the way. He hadn't been with Lisa and Ben for months but there was still that sense of love and fierce protection toward them that was evident during the phone call. Honestly, she was surprised that the phone didn't just splinter apart under the hunter's grip.

"Just…just keep an eye on him," she asked him quietly. "Be careful…"

" _Yeah, you guys be careful too…"_

When she hung up the phone, Bobby glanced over at her as they drove. A moment passed before he asked his question.

"Have you tried calling Crowley?" he suggested. "Maybe he'll listen to you?"

She shook her head. "I've already tried. He doesn't answer. Besides, he's the King of Hell, he's not going to listen to what I have to say…"

It was true, she had slipped away at first chance and tried calling out for the demon. After a few failed attempts, she allowed her frustration to be obvious.

" _You listen here, Crowley! These are innocent people and have absolutely nothing to do with any of this! You said you would take my words into consideration, so consider this—I told you I'm going to keep everyone safe, and that means Ben and Lisa too, you hear me? Get your act together and stop this before someone gets hurt or killed!"_

Once again, Bobby took the lead when it came to asking the questions. The man was in mid-eighties, sitting in a wheelchair with his shoulders and back hunched. He seemed like a sweet old man and it turned out he was quite observant as well. He asked if they were affiliated with the other man because "he wasn't what he said he was."

The rest of the social area slowly moved with its own activity as they quietly spoke with the gentleman. He then told them that they did their spell and everyone thought it failed. That was when he looked to them both and whispered,

"Do you believe in monsters?"

They both nodded. Hell yeah, they believed in monsters.

"You know, you go saying that, they'll lock you in here rest of your life."

"You tell us what you saw…we'll buy it straight," Bobby promised.

He gave a little nod, leaning in closer so to whisper. "The spell worked. A door opened and something came through. But—but it was invisible, so no one knew. Except me."

"So, how did you know then?" Rose dared to ask gently. The man turned his watery eyes to her, his bottom lip quivering.

"Because it took my mother." The girl's heart gave a painful lurch at his words. "It went into her. She wasn't the same. She even smelled different. And then she disappeared. And surprise, surprise, one by one, they all start dying."

"I'm sorry…about your mom," Bobby kindly told him. Rose nodded, trying to keep her own eyes dry, not even bothering to pretend to write on her notepad.

"You're the first to ever say that…" The old man let loose a shaky sigh, his eyes a little extra bright. "Hey, you wanna see a picture?"

"We'd love to," agreed Rose with a smile.

He pulled a carefully folded photograph from the interior pocket of his cardigan, taking his time to open it and slowly turned it around for them to see. In the image was a young boy and his mother standing right behind him, her hand on his shoulder. She was lovely, with blonde hair pulled up away from her face. Rose was surprised when Bobby suddenly went still, so she covered for him.

"She's very beautiful, sir."

He smiled fondly at the picture, brushing his thumb over the picture's edge.

It wasn't until they were back in the car that Bobby explained that the woman in the photo was none other than Dr. Eleanor Visyak. The name rang a very particular memory.

"Visyak? The dragon lady?"

Bobby gave a laugh at the term of address. "Medieval Studies professor, but yeah. The very same."

Rose leaned back heavily in her seat with a sigh.

"So how are we going to find her? Just drive to the school again?"

The engine came to life when he turned the key. "I know a few of her hiding spots."

It was raining by the time they reached the safe house, a little cabin in the woods. Judging by the protective sigil painted on the front door, Dr. Visyak was already preparing for trouble. Bobby was taking a few more deep breaths than usual, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. Rose had forgotten that the two had a history together.

"I'll watch the car," she offered.

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking over in confusion.

"I mean, I'll watch the car," she repeated with a little bit of a laugh. "Don't wanna crash your date."

"It's not a date," he gruffed, looking back toward the front door again.

"Whatever you say," Rose sing songed, teasing. Bobby rolled his eyes and put the car into park.

"Suit yourself."

She watched as Bobby walked up the front path and knocked on the door. A blonde woman answered and she could read the expression of surprise from where she was sitting. The two disappeared into the cabin and Rose settled into her set, getting comfortable. There was no telling how long they would take.

Keeping a regular watch on the immediate area wasn't too difficult, but with the thick forest it could be hard to see something sneaking up. She did hope Dr. Visyak agreed to go with them, it would be easier to protect her if she was closer to them. Who knew what it was exactly that Castiel and Crowley needed her for beside information which was dangerous enough as it was.

Her cellphone buzzed and she checked the screen to see that Sam had sent her a text message.

 _Going to get Lisa and Ben. Balthazar's taking us there._

"Great!" she said to no one in particular. She quickly typed out a response.

 _Good job! Please be careful. We should be home sometime tonight._

Storing her phone, she allowed her thoughts to wander as she kept watch. She hoped that Ben and Lisa were all right. The experience had to be traumatic for them, even if they were somehow unharmed.

She sighed, tired. The whole Purgatory thing was a whole mess. She could understand why Castiel and Crowley would want the souls, power was power and not to mention they had the trouble from Raphael's side. Why would he want to bring the Apocalypse back? She couldn't wrap her mind around it. Did they just hate humans that much? Was it because they were bored? A power trip?

The souls from Purgatory, essentially a plane of existence filled with the monster souls from the dawn of time. She didn't understand how the demon and angel wanted to harness them exactly. The amount of time, effort, and difficulty it took for Castiel to siphon off a little power from her own…how was he expecting to take o such a mass? They were essentially millions of nuclear reactors, how could that possibly end well for anyone? Angel or demon, she didn't think they were built to take on that much power, at least not in one attempt. If it was a gradual thing, maybe, but it didn't sound like that. If Castiel's desperation was any indicator, he needed all the souls he could get and he needed them quickly.

She rubbed her face with a groan, wiping away the make up from earlier. She couldn't wait until the whole mess was done. Who knew that she would miss regular monster hunting in comparison to earth level danger? Could things return to normal? With Crowley so deeply involved, what would her new normal be? Did she even want it if the demon wasn't involved somehow?

Bobby returned to the car alone a short while later, sighing as he got into the driver's seat.

"No dice," he told her. "She said she's better at protecting herself, but she'll call if she changes her mind."

* * *

The call came sooner rather than later.

It was just a couple of days since they saw Dr. Visyak and the boys returned from their rescue of Lisa and Ben. Sam had talked to Rose and Bobby privately regarding what had happened. They had successfully retrieved the two but Lisa was possessed by a demon to act as insurance and had stabbed her. The injury would have killed her regardless of how quickly they got her to the hospital, but Castiel arrived and healed her.

Then, at Dean's request, he washed their memories of ever meeting the eldest Winchester. Just like that, he was a stranger to them. After everything they had gone through, what they gave up to be with each other, it was wiped clean from both Lisa and Ben.

As if Sam could read her mind, he brought her to a halt before she could even try to go find Dean and talk about it. Apparently, Dean told his own brother he would break his nose if ever dared to bring up either name again. Part of her wanted to respect his decision, while the other wanted to protest vehemently against his choice. The very thought of someone making the call of choosing what memories to will away got her riled up. If she was in Lisa's shoes, she wouldn't want their time together suppressed. It wasn't all bad, like with any kind of memory, there were good times as well. And that was all just taken away? That wasn't fair to Lisa or Dean.

Now that were heading down the street toward the address that Dr. Visyak told Bobby. It felt like a random spot between two regular buildings. When they turned down the alley they didn't see anyone right away. The university professor would stand out against a dingy setting like an alley.

"This is the place, right?" Rose asked, rising onto her tiptoes to try to catch sight of the blonde woman. She was walking beside Sam and if he couldn't see her then there wasn't a chance for her.

"I'll try her again," said Bobby, pulling out his phone.

When an answering phone rang out, they all shared a concerned look. Moving quickly toward the sound, it was only a short distance for them to find the woman slumped over beside a dumpster.

Bobby rushed to her, kneeling down beside her, his hand cradling her face so that she could look right at him.

"Elle?" he called.

Her voice was very soft and her lips gave a twitch of a smile. "Hey…I guess I could've used your help after all."

"Just be still," Bobby told her, his free hand holding hers.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"They took me," she answered, blearily looking over at the standing hunters. She glanced back to Bobby, her voice lifting with a little pride. "I got away…"

She opened her jacket to reveal the dark red blood that stained her midsection. The interior liner of her jacket was colored as well.

"Oh, Ellie," lamented Bobby, taking in the serious injury. "Oh, what have they done to you?"

A weak chuckle. "Everything…The demon I could've handled, y'know? But when the angel stepped in, I…"

They group of four shared a very serious look of concern. Now Castiel was involved with torture?

"I told him, Bobby," she admitted, her eyes becoming glassy with tears. "They have enough to crack Purgatory wide open …"

"Tell me. I need to know," Bobby asked of her. She nodded in understanding.

"They need virgin blood…That's a milk run for them…And they need the blood of a Purgatory native…" She gave a humorless laugh. "Well, they've got enough of that now…"

Dean spoke up. "Have they opened it yet?"

She gave the barest shake of her head. She was fading. "Tomorrow…the moon and the eclipse…I'm sorry, Bobby…"

The older hunter's voice trembled ever so slightly. "No, no, it's okay, Elle."

"I'm sorry, really…sorry…" she apologized again, her voice cracking.

"Just tell us where they are," Bobby tried. Dr. Visyak took a breath as if to answer him but her body went still. Her eyes continued to stare on but the light was now gone.

"Elle?" Bobby called, his voice a mere whisper. When she didn't answer, he very gently closed her eyes so she looked more like she was sleeping instead.

Rose had to turn her head away, her own eyes burning with tears as she watched the hunter lose a woman he once loved. Oh this wasn't fair! She may have been from Purgatory but she hadn't hurt anyone, she didn't deserve the fate she got. And Bobby—to have to lose someone he cared for, _again_ —her heart ached in sympathy for the man.

"I'm sorry this had to happen."

They all whirled around at the sound the familiar voice. Castiel had appeared to them.

" _Had_ to happen?" Rose repeated, disgusted by his choice of words. "You _let_ it happen, you—!"

Sam had grabbed her and pulled her back before she could finish bringing her arm up, winding up for a hit of some sort. A punch or a smack, she wasn't quite sure, but she was going to throw all of her weight into it and make it hurt.

"Crowley got carried away," the angel said.

Bobby was struggling against Dean's hold as well, snarling, "Yeah, I bet it was all Crowley, you son of a bitch!"

"You don't even see it, do you?" asked Dean, looking to Castiel. "How totally off the rails you are?"

"Enough!" he snapped. "I don't care what you think. I've tried to make you understand. You won't listen. So let me make this simple. Please go home and let me stop Raphael. I won't ask again."

"Well, good, 'cause I think you already know the answer," said Dean firmly.

There was a brief pause and Castiel shook his head.

"I wish it hadn't come to this." He took a breath. "Well, rest assured, when this is all over…I will save Sam, but only if you stand down."

The color drained from the girl's face at his words and now she had her hand on Sam, ready to either jump in front or pull him out of the way.

"Save Sam from what?" demanded Dean, stepping forward.

The space where the angel stood was now perfectly vacant.

She only caught sight of movement out of her peripheral, turning around sharply just in time to see Castiel reaching out and barely touching Sam's temple. In the span of a breath, he was gone and Sam's eyes were rolling back as he began to fall. Throwing her arms out, she allowed his body crash into hers, bringing them both down with his weight. Using all of her strength, she was able to keep him mostly upright, preventing his head from hitting the ground as she took the brunt of the fall.

"Sam?!" she called, shaking his shoulder. The hunter was unresponsive in her arms and her fear soared to new heights as she shook him again. " _SAM!_ "

* * *

She couldn't believe she was in the same position _again_. The setting was different, the person was different, but the situation and the feelings, they were all so familiar that she found herself fighting the long forgotten nausea that came with the overwhelming thoughts and panic.

Here she was, sitting at a loved one's bedside as they underwent some sort of internal struggle, and she could do _nothing_. She couldn't scare or fight an illness away then and she certainly couldn't fight Sam's battle for him now. It was all locked in his head and there wasn't a way for them to get inside.

Dean's chair seemed permanently fixed by the head of the bed while hers was at the side. She had managed to get up a few times to collect books and research materials, but the older brother hadn't left the safe room once. The room in the basement that was now decked out with fresh angel-proofing sigils on every available surface.

Rolling Stones was playing on the radio when both Rose and Bobby returned with new books and fresh whiskey.

"Anything?" asked Bobby. Dean had at least changed to pacing rather than sitting.

"I can't just sit here, Bobby. I've got to help him."

"Dean—"

"You know, "Dreamscape" his noggin—something."

"You know what Cas did," explained Bobby. "The dam inside your brother's head is gone and all Hell's spinning loose. We don't know what's goin' on."

"I don't care—we have got to do something!" he protested, his voice threatening to crack.

"And we will," assured Bobby. "But right now, we got 16 hours 'til they pop Purgatory."

"Yeah, and how's that going, huh?" asked Dean, pacing again. "We've got no line on Crowley. We've got no line on Cas. Balthazar's M.I.A. I mean, all we've got is Sam going through whatever the hell this is!"

"You know, this exactly what Cas wants, for you to fall to pieces," reasoned Bobby, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and handing one to Dean and then to Rose. "Just try to think of what Sam would want."

It was a few hours later when Sam made some sort of movement. He began to seize and thrash and it took both Rose and Dean to try and keep him still, lest he hurt himself in some way. The fit was brief but it was the first sign of movement, so they were going to take it as a positive although a strange one. The girl returned to her seat and Dean filled another glass of whiskey. Picking up her notes that spilled to the ground when she got up quickly, Dean asked her a question.

"So you've…you've been in a similar situation before, right?" He gestured to Sam's still form. She gave a little shrug.

"Yeah. Different circumstances obviously, but yeah, same sort of position."

"Any advice?" he asked before downing the drink in one swallow. She couldn't help but give a little laugh.

"Well, I sold my soul to a demon in order to heal Grace," she answered, "so I am not qualified to offer advice."

Dean managed a chuckle as well, filling up his glass. "No wonder you fit in here."

She gave a smile at the compliment and continued. "But I can tell you, I know Sam will pull out of it."

"How do you know that?" he asked in all honesty. He was looking down at the glass in his hands, swirling the amber liquid. "How can you know that for certain?"

"Because he's survived so much already," she answered. "I know I've only heard the cliff note version of your life in comparison to the real thing, but you guys always come back from whatever life decides to deal you. Your early life trauma, life as hunters in general, the Apocalypse, and even Sam going without a soul. It'll take time but I know he'll pull himself out of whatever mess Cas dealt him."

"And you're confident that'll happen? No worries?" he asked. She shook her head.

"All I do is worry, faith or not," she told him. "I worry about everything. About what he's going through, if there was something I could do to help, if I could've been faster earlier and maybe get in Castiel's way somehow to stop it from happening at all."

He looked up at her admittance, his brow furrowing. "There wasn't any way for you to know what Cas was about to do, Rose."

"No, but I was closest," she said, her throat growing tight. "I should've pushed him or Cas, or jumped in the way maybe. I was _right_ there and I wasn't—I wasn't fast enough and I'm sorry, Dean—!"

The eldest Winchester was already across the room and she hadn't realized she was crying until his shirt became damp. His arms were tight around her and she allowed the embrace to squeeze her, her voice muffled and cracking against the material. Everything that was happening was running her through the gauntlet of emotions. The adrenaline, the sympathy, the worry and panic, it was flaying her nerves and composure.

"I'm sorry…!"

"Hey, this ain't on you, Rose. You hear me?" he told her sternly. "None of it. We didn't know what Cas was gonna do, that he would hurt Sammy."

Closing her eyes tightly, she moved her arms around him so that she was hugging him back just as fiercely. She couldn't seem to work her voice so she tried to pour everything she wanted to say into the hold. About everything. All the misfortunes, the betrayals, about Ben and Lisa, and now Sam, his little brother. Judging by the fact that his grip tightened, she hoped that meant he understood.

They broke apart when footsteps sounded on the basement stairs and she was quick to scrub her face to try erase the telltale signs of crying. She had to put her game face on and be as normal as she could. She mentally berated herself. This wasn't the time for crying anyway. Once they stopped Cas and Crowley from popping Purgatory then she could have a good cry.

"Look what the cat dragged in," called Bobby.

The angel Balthazar came into view, looking at the walls of the panic room.

"Well, at least you mudfish finally got the angel-proofing right."

"Nice to see you too, Balthazar," Rose greeted, rolling her eyes at the mudfish comment.

"Always a pleasure. How's Sleeping Beauty?" he asked. "You didn't steal any kisses, I trust?"

"We managed to restrain ourselves," she jabbed back. Dean wasted no time in marching toward him and Rose quickly followed.

"What the hell took you so long?" he demanded.

"Honestly?" Balthazar turned to face the hunter directly. "I was having second thoughts."

"About?"

"About whether to help you," he said. "I was thinking maybe—maybe I should rip out your sticky bits instead."

"And what did you decide?" Bobby dared to ask.

"Well…" The angel hesitated before handing the small piece of paper over to Dean. "Cas and Crowley are there. That's where the show gets started."

Dean showed the paper to both Rose and Bobby.

 _221 Piermont Ave. Bootback, Kansas_.

"All right, well, give us a minute to pack up and then zap us there," Dean began but Balthazar cut him off.

"Oh no, no, no, no. I don't think so."

"Balthazar—"

"I'm betraying a friend here—a very powerful friend. We all are," he informed them. "So I think I've stuck my neck out far enough already. Good luck."

Just like that, the angel was gone.

* * *

They had to work quickly to get their bags packed and the cars prepped. The plan was to take two vehicles, Bobby and Dean taking the Impala and then Rose would use one of the usual picks from the salvage yard. They were going to stagger their arrivals, the boys going first and Rose following after by an hour, max. While there was some strategic sense to the plan, it was mostly for Dean's peace of mind. This meant that someone could stay with Sam for a little while longer and maybe he would wake up in time. The fact that it allowed them to have backup was second to Sam's well-being.

"Time's up, Dean," called Bobby, zipping the duffle bag closed. "We gotta go."

"Just a second."

Dean moved toward Rose and took her hand in his, placing the small scrap of paper that bore the address in her palm. Her fingers quickly closed over it and she could feel him shaking as he placed his other hand over hers. Green eyes were intense as he looked down at her, his voice low.

"Look after Sammy…"

She nodded firmly, determined. "I promise."

To her surprise, Dean pulled her into a hug again, his hand clapping hard against her back. The embrace only last a second before he turned heel and walked out of the safe room with Bobby. She watched them head up the stairs and when she heard the front door closed, she sighed and returned to her spot beside Sam's bed.

"C'mon, Sam," she told him quietly. "You've gotta wake up…"

Just like when they were waiting for him to wake up after Death returned his soul, she slipped her hand into his, moving so that her first two fingers were sitting against the inside of his wrist. Closing her eyes, she took count of his pulse. It was strong and steady, as if he really was just sleeping.

Using her free hand, she ran it over her face and took a shaky deep breath. Clenching her jaw, she gave a shake of her head. She couldn't let her emotions get the better of her. This wasn't the time. She needed to be strong. No matter how much she wanted to break down and sob, no matter how much all of her feelings wanted to roar and consume her, she had to stay focused. If she slipped…she was worried that she wouldn't recover in time. She wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she let Dean and Bobby down just because she lost her composure. They—

All sense of thought vanished as Rose felt her body and mind become engulfed by an ungodly cold. Even her breath seemed to freeze within her chest as every nerve seized, locking her in place. The panic room had vanished in a flash of white and she could've sworn that her heart had stopped.

 _Rosette Herondale._

As soon as it came, it went. Everything came rushing back to her and she slumped over, falling from her chair to the ground gasping for air. Sweat had broken out across her skin but she was still chilled to the bone, her body trembling. She hurriedly pushed herself back up, looking wildly around the room for anything that shouldn't be there. Was it a spell? An attack? Was she sick? Hurt?

Nothing seemed immediately wrong, but her thoughts were derailed again when Sam began to thrash in his unconscious state.

"Sam!" she called. She did her best to try and brace him, to keep him from throwing himself off the bed. A feat that was easier said than done, given the Winchester's generous size advantage.

Suddenly, Sam sat up with a gasp, the pair knocking heads solidly. Rose let go of him and stumbled backwards, clutching her forehead.

"Son of a bitch…!" she hissed under her breath. She rubbed at the point of contact, trying to will the pain away.

Sam was holding is head similarly, looking up at her in confusion.

"R-Rose?"

"The one and only," she greeted with a tight smile. That was going to bruise, she accepted with a mental sigh. "I am so glad to see you up, Sam, I really am, but a warning next time would be great…"

Her joke went over his head as he looked around the room, trying to gather his bearings. He looked back to her in confusion.

"What's going on?" he asked. "Where's Dean? Bobby?"

She held out her hand and helped him to his feet with a small groan. "I'll explain on the way but we've got to hit the road, Jack."

He looked a little confused by her Ray Charles music reference but she didn't bother explaining it as she helped him get out to the car.

There wasn't enough time. No matter how much she pressed down on the pedal, they didn't seem to be going fast enough in her opinion. The needle climbed higher and yet, the minutes seemed to tick by even faster still as they sped toward the location Balthazar provided. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel as they drove closer, her palms beginning to sweat.

Sam was in the passenger's seat, still looking worse for wear, slumped to the side with his forehead pressed against the cool glass of the window.

"You still with me, Sam?" Rose asked. She must've asked him a dozen times already during their drive, but that didn't stop her from asking again.

"Y-yeah…still here…" he rasped. A worried frown pulled at her mouth as she reached out and gave his knee a reassuring pat.

"I'm sorry, I know you feel bad, but we're almost there. We're—we're almost there…"

The site was pulling up fast, a large building off the beaten path and surround by some woods, and they had just started to drive down the main lane when they spotted a familiar vehicle. Sam was suddenly alert, crying out,

"Stop!"

The brakes screamed as she slammed her foot down, the back tires even daring to fishtail. Throwing the car into park and cutting the engine, the two were out of the car in a flash and sprinting toward the flipped Chevy Impala.

"Dean?!" called Sam.

Rose called out too, her voice cracking, "Bobby?!"

Dropping down to her knees to check the interior, she was immensely relieved to find it empty.

"Anything on your side?" she asked.

Sam came back from checking the immediate area, shaking his head. "Nothing. They must've made their way to the building already."

"Thank God," she sighed, beginning to push herself back up again. "So we should start heading there too—"

Her knees buckled and she clutched her chest as a searing heat seemed to coat her bones. She didn't hear Sam call for her as she clawed at her chest, tugging at the collar of her shirt as she cried out at the sudden flash of pain that seemed centered on her sternum and ribcage. The intensity had fallen away after the split moment it had occurred and she sagged forward onto all fours.

"Rose!" Sam called again. His hands easily wrapped around her upper arms and pulled her to her feet. "Rose—what the hell was that?!"

She could only shake her head, weakly holding onto him. "I dunno, but—"

Once again, she was cut off in mid-sentence as a faint sound in the distance registered to her. If it was any other day, maybe she wouldn't have paid it any attention, but not right then. Her hair was standing on end and a fierce chill had raced down her spine while her stomach began to churn. There was a reason she knew that sound so well. She heard it every night in her dreams.

Her hand shakily rose up to touch her chest again, right in the center of her sternum.

" _I've inscribed some Enochian sigils," said Castiel. "If this goes poorly or you try to run away, we can find you."_

 _Crowley's gaze lingered on her while he kept his voice mild. "It means that since Castiel here has marked up your contract with his sigils, I cannot collect your soul at this point in time. Unless he so kindly removes them—"_

"The sigils…" she muttered, her lips barely moving. "Oh God—oh God, the sigils…!"

"What?" asked Sam. "What do you mean? What about the sigils?"

Another howl ripped through the night and they both whipped their heads to the side desperately scanning the horizon.

"Was that—?"

"Hellhound…"

As soon as the word was whispered out loud she felt her heart rate shoot through the roof, making her ears ring. If possible, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up even higher, her body trembling.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God…!"

The sigils were gone which meant that her soul's contract was unmarred and her original collection date was reinstated and she…she was well past due.

Before she could try to stumble back, Sam grabbed her shoulders tightly and made her face him, her eyes wide with fear as she looked up at him, tears brimming.

"Listen to me," he told her, "you're going to be fine. We're going to keep you safe. We just—we just need to get to Dean and Bobby and we'll—we'll figure something out!"

She couldn't help but shake her head at his words, her bottom lip trembling.

"No, Sam…Sam, you gotta run…!"

"What? No! I am not leaving you here! We can figure this out!"

The tears rolled hot down her face as she felt his grip begin to shake. The feeling of death grew stronger with each passing second, her world darkening as the eclipse simultaneously took place. There wasn't enough time. They needed to stop Purgatory from being opened. The fact that her time was up was…was unimportant, in the grand scheme of things…

She choked on her tears. This was it, she was going to die. Oh God, she was going to die and she wasn't ready yet! There was—there was still so much she wanted to do and needed to say! She didn't want to die!

"You gotta run…!" she begged him. He was half shouting in return, his voice threatening the crack.

"Rose, I am _not_ leaving you!"

"Sam!"

She grabbed his arms, his hands holding tightly to her shoulders and she tried to give a smile even though her vision blurred further. The tears rolled as she blinked, trying to clear her vision for at least a moment. She wanted to take in the sight of Sam Winchester and burn it into her mind. Sam, Dean, and Bobby, she wanted to remember everything she could about the three men who accepted her into their life and taught her everything about the supernatural and became her second family. Her heart threatened to burst from the sheer love she felt for the three. There wasn't enough time for her to explain how she felt for them in exact detail. The Hellhound was coming and she had to be fast.

"I love you—all of you, so much," Rose told him fiercely, her voice wavering. "I can't—I can't even begin to tell you how much. This—all of this, with you, the hunting and monsters, everything—this has been…the _best_ part of my life and I can't thank you enough…!"

Green eyes became bright with unshed tears as Sam stared down at her. His hands moved so to cradle her face as he shook his head fervently.

"No, Rose, you can't—you can't—!"

The hound was only growing closer. She could practically hear it running, like a train picking up speed. She needed to create space so to keep it away from Sam and the others. Biting down hard on her lip, she had to soldier through her hesitation and she had to move. Her hands lashed out and connected solidly with Sam's chest, pushing him back and away. Her voice broke as she tried to shout at him one last time.

"Run, Sam! Please—run!"

Out of time, she turned on her heel and began to run deeper into the surrounding woods, leading the Hellhound's path away from Sam. She could dully hear him call for her as she sprinted, rogue branches scratching her as she flew past, blindly running further into the dark.

" _ROSE!_ "

His voice became lost to her as her own labored breathing filled her ears as she pushed herself to run faster. The moonlight was fading with each second as the eclipse loomed overhead. The forest was just a mass of darkness with the trees clustered tightly together, her arms scraping against the bark as she fought to keep herself balanced and safe from colliding head on with a tree.

The night air became filled with the sound of vicious snarling and Rose couldn't help but dare to look over her shoulder. Her eyes widened and a small scream escaped her when she saw the sheer size of the Hellhound. Red eyes glowed like fiery coals in the night, fixated on her as it closed the distance between them. Large sharp teeth gleamed as it snapped its jaw, drawing closer with each stride.

Her mind was becoming white with panic, pure, undiluted fear racking her body as she pushed herself to run as fast as she physically could. She couldn't feel the burn of her muscles protesting, the sting of the tree bark against her arms. There wasn't any way she could out run a Hellhound. It just wasn't possible.

There was only one person she knew who could control the hounds.

"Crowley!"

" _If my time comes l-like Castiel said," she began, trying to keep her voice from trembling, "is it possible…for you to collect my soul and not the Hounds?"_

" _Asking for a personal escort to Hell, darling?" the demon teased. "Being a chew toy doesn't sound very pleasant, does it?"_

Hot breath brushed against her neck, heavy with the stench of death.

" _Crowley!_ " she screamed.

" _I just thought I'd ask," she said with a shaky laugh. "I understand though."_

" _It would make sense for me to collect you though," he said thoughtfully. "Certainly would make training you easier. As my assistant the more proficient you are, the better for me."_

" _Really?" she asked, hope starting to thread its way into her voice._

The heavy paw came down hard on her shoulder, sending her spiraling to the ground. Dirt flew as she crashed onto the forest floor and she tried to scramble back to her feet but the hound was faster. It's weight was crushing as it pinned her down, it's nails already sinking into her midsection.

" _Do you promise?" The words sounded childish to her ears but that didn't stop the question from escaping her lips. He was the one with all the power._

 _An amused smirk pulled at his mouth. He lowered himself so that his mouth was right next to her ear, his breath making shivers race up and down her spine. Her fingers brushed against the material of his coat and she felt the warmth return to her cheeks as his voice rumbled._

" _I promise."_

"CROWLEY!"

Pain exploded within her mind and body as the hound began to dig into her. It raked it's giant paw across her torso and her skin split apart like paper, blood rushing from the wounds as it dug with a fervor, as if it could dig out her soul from her body. She cried out, screaming in pain as it slashed, her muscles tearing like they were nothing.

" _CROWLEY!"_

The last shred of light from the moon was gone as the eclipse took its place. Her throat was raw from screaming out and her world was becoming quiet. She could dimly see the hound snapping its jaws at her but she couldn't hear it anymore. Her arms had fallen to her sides, unable to keep trying to push it off. Everything was becoming numb, even the pain. The hound continued to bury it nails and teeth into her and she could only lie there, unflinching. She didn't know if she could still cry out but her lips moved to form the demon's name nonetheless. Blood was filling her throat and breathing was becoming too much of a struggle.

It was all going dark. Her mind was trying to cling to fragments of thoughts, images of the boys…her family…Crowley…it was all fading away…

She didn't…she didn't want to…

Her body couldn't breathe anymore and had gone still, the last functions of her mind failing as well.

The Hellhound vanished altogether and Rosette's body was left on the forest floor.

* * *

"So, Castiel, how'd your ritual go?" Crowley asked tersely. "Better than ours, I'll bet."

The demon King and the archangel Raphael were standing in front of their drawn symbol on the tile wall that had failed to open the door to Purgatory. At some point the angel had switched the jars of blood before handing it over to the newly aligned pair. They had drawn and recited their spell using dog blood thus making their effort all for nothing.

If only Castiel hadn't reneged on their deal, they both could be sitting pretty with half the souls of Purgatory to each of them. He had "renegotiated" the terms of their arrangement and refused to share even one soul with the demon. The very demon that brought him the deal, he had reminded him. That was what pushed him to side with Raphael. He needed some kind of insurance strategy against the angel that was determined to go nuclear.

To answer his question, Castiel closed his eyes and he was suddenly enveloped in a bright golden light that seemed to have the force and shine of an exploding star.

Spots filled the demon's vision as he quickly blinked to restore his sight, bringing his arm away as he looked to the angel again. He didn't look different physically, but there was a different atmosphere filling the room, a type of charge. Everyone was quiet as they waited For Castiel to move. He was a ticking time bomb.

"You…can't imagine what it's like. They're all inside me—millions upon millions of souls."

"Sounds sexy," Crowley commented flippantly. "Exit stage Crowley."

Taking care to keep his presence completely concealed, the demon vanished from sight. He wasn't leaving quite yet, but he needed to be off the board to see how the other pieces played out. His new post was from the top of the staircase so he could watch on from a bird's eye view.

"Now, what's the matter, Raphael?" asked Castiel, turning his focus to the archangel. "Somebody clip your wings?"

"Castiel, please," begged Raphael, his vessel's voice soft in desperation. Without so much as moving a finger, the archangel was unable to flee the scene. "You let the demon go…but not your own brother?"

Crowley found that strange as well, but he figured it was for a couple of reasons. One, he wasn't the main opposition like Raphael was in heaven, and two, Castiel could overpower anyone so he didn't view him as a threat at all, even if he was the King of Hell.

"The demon…the demon I have plans for," Castiel answered simply. "You, on the other hand…"

He brought his hand up and snapped his fingers. The action had hardly sounded when Raphael and his vessel were splattered across the white walls, destroyed on a molecular level as his angel blade clattered to the floor.

Castiel turned his attention to Dean and Bobby, both who were staring in open shock.

"So, you see…I saved you."

"You sure did, Cas," Dean thanked carefully. "Thank you…"

"You doubted me…" he said, slowly pacing toward the blood splattered wall. "Fought against me. But I was right all along."

"Okay, Cas, you were. We're sorry," Dean admitted, his tone cautious. "Let's just defuse you, okay?"

Crowley rolled his eyes. As if that was going to happen. Power was as sweet as it was addicting.

"What do you mean?"

"You're full of nuke. It's not safe," Dean explained. "So before the eclipse ends, let's get them souls back to where they belong."

"Oh, no. They belong with me."

Red flag.

"No, Cas, i-it's scrambling your brain," he tried to reason.

"No, I'm not finished yet," said the super charged angel. "Raphael had many followers, and I must…punish them all severely."

Dean and Bobby shared a worried look.

"Listen to me," Dean tried again. "Listen…I know there's a lot of bad water under the bridge, but we were family once. I'd have died for you. I almost did a few times. So if that means anything to you…please. I've lost Lisa, I've lost Ben, and now I've lost Sam. Don't make me lose you too. You don't need this kind of juice anymore, Cas. Get rid of it before it kills us all."

Castiel was quiet for a moment.

"You're just saying that because I won…because you're afraid." He stepped closer. "You're not my family, Dean. I have no family."

Crowley didn't even notice it until the hunter was already in action, but Sam Winchester had crept up behind Castiel and drove the angel blade into his back with a certain ferocity, all the way to the hilt. For such a large man he could certainly move quietly. He groaned as he stepped away, leaving the weapon embedded. The angel didn't even seem to mind, casually reaching around and pulling it out of his own back.

"I'm glad you could make it, Sam," he said calmly, "but the angel blade won't work, because I'm not an angel anymore."

The humans shared a similar look of panic.

"I'm your new God. A better one," he proclaimed to them. "So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord…or I shall destroy you."

The laboratory was filled with a tense silence, the humans coming to grips to the terms Castiel had set. Crowley continued to watch from the top of the stairs, curious as to how it would turn out. The Winchesters were not exactly the bowing type.

"Well…" muttered Bobby. "All right then…"

The older hunter slowly got to his knees. "This good or you want the whole forehead-to-the-carpet thing?"

Dean and Sam slowly started to follow suit but the demon noticed that the youngest had a certain steely glint to his eye, his movements shaky as he glared hard at the new "God."

"Stop," commanded Castiel with a sigh. "What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me. Not love, not respect—just fear."

"Cas—" started Sam but he was curtly cut off.

"Sam, you have nothing to say to me. You stabbed me in the back."

The youngest Winchester could barely contain himself, his fists shaking.

"You killed Rose!" he half shouted. The lab was quiet again in his words' wake.

Crowley went eerily still at the hunter's outburst. What—what did he say?

"Sam—" tried Dean, but his little brother shook his head.

"Those sigils you put on her—the ones that were keeping her alive? Yeah, the second you took those away a Hellhound came for her!"

"It was necessary."

Dean looked stunned by the choice of words. " _Necessary_?! Cas, she's our friend!"

"She was necessary leverage against Crowley then and now. She's fulfilled her purpose."

"This isn't you—!"

"The Castiel you knew is gone," he told them plainly, unfazed by their anger. "So know this, if you stay in your place, you may live in my kingdom. If you rise up, I will strike you down. For your sake, I hope this is the last you see of me."

Crowley didn't care to listen any further as his mind reeled from the news.

That couldn't be true. There was no way Rosette could be dead. He would know, without a doubt if she were. Her contract was promised directly to him. If it were called to task, it would've been one of his Hellhounds that would have retrieved her and brought her to him. That is, _if_ that were the case. Which he knew it wasn't because he had given his hounds explicit instruction when it came to her collection, that _he_ was to take care of it, personally. They weren't to touch Daddy's contract.

He teleported outside of the building, looking around at the surrounding area. Where was she?

Closing his eyes, he allowed his power to reach out for her. The action typically took hardly a thought. For whatever reason, he was always aware of her, no matter the distance, even when he was working in Hell. Her…soul was like a little candle flickering at the back of his mind. That connection was constantly there and he learned to just accept it. Honestly, it was more helpful than anything. He liked being able to find her with barely a thought. It didn't hurt for him to have a little brightness in his life.

Except now there was nothing.

Stunned, he tried again, pouring more of his power into the soul search. Nothing registered to him. That once constant light was extinguished.

He didn't realize it, but his pulse was picking up, making his heart rate speed up in his favored human suit. So he had to search the old fashioned way. Fine. The perks of being a demon, let alone the King, meant that his senses were heightened. Taking a deep breath, he took a sniff of the night air and his borrowed heart gave an uncomfortable lurch in his chest.

Blood. Lots of it.

He teleported again, following the trail deeper into the woods. It wasn't a difficult thing to track, the copper laden scent was heavy on his tongue as he drew closer to the source. It took only one more trip before he found the source. He wasn't aware of himself calling her name.

"Rosette…?"

His body felt like a foreign object as he slowly approached the fallen hunter. Her form was laid out on the ground, her red hair partially free from its usual tie. Slowly, he knelt down beside her. Were his hands trembling?

This was absolutely the work of a Hellhound, but he _knew_ it wasn't one of his, they wouldn't dare disobey him.

"Rosette…"

Very carefully, he lifted her into his arms, her body unresponsive and cold to his touch. He reached out to move the strands of hair away from her face, blue eyes now dim as they stared on into nothingness. His whole body seemed to be shaking now and there was an unbearable tightness in his chest as he cradled her close to him, his free hand softly brushing her cheek.

"Rosette, my darling…" he whispered to her. "I don't…this wasn't…this wasn't supposed to happen…"

He gently closed her eyes, his throat growing tight. As if he could believe she was only sleeping. The scent of blood was too heavy in the air to even placate that train of thought. Normally, he wouldn't have any trouble resurrecting someone, but what worried him the most was that her soul wasn't brought directly to him. Which could only mean that she was somewhere in the depths of Hell. Fortunately, with his new design of the underworld, it should be relatively simple to find her. He also needed to go dig up their contract to find out if there was some sort of clerical error, maybe something was etched out due to the longevity of the angel sigils. There was also the pressing matter of Castiel running around as the new God and the fact that he had switched sides so to oppose him.

"Rose!"

" _Rose_!"

Crowley looked up at the sound of the hunters calling for their fallen friend. He could hear them approaching quickly, they were already close. Careful again, he placed the girl back on the ground, arranging her arms neatly across her stomach, and rose to his full height. She looked a little more peaceful now. He turned at the sound of someone breaking through the brush and he saw Sam Winchester arrive on the scene first.

Knowing that she was in safe hands now, Crowley vanished as the hunter sprinted toward Rosette. The demon wasn't even aware off the one burning tear that had tracked down his cheek.

* * *

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	19. Chapter 19

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

Abandoned Chapel

* * *

"You're the third trial, Crowley."

That was the last thing he was told before he was stuffed in the back of the Chevy Impala, handcuffed and powerless. The car ride had been tense with silence as they drove to some old, weathered down chapel in the middle of nowhere. He couldn't so much as squirm while Dean kept a vice-like grip on his upper arm, not caring if it was held up at an awkward angle for his meat suit.

The boys made quick work of the room, moving the abandoned furniture pieces to the side and setting up the new chair he found himself trapped in. The chain of the equally engraved collar rattled as he tried to move, but any action was severely restricted. Another layer of demonic power repression. There was the hiss of the spray can as Dean drew a devil's trap to finish hemming him in. There were certainly pulling out all the stops for what they believed the third task to be.

"You really think this is going to hold me?" he scoffed "That you're going to cure me or whatever it is?"

For once, Dean didn't answer him. He simply gave him an unnerving look as he tossed the spray can to this side as he walked out of the chapel. All there was left to hear was the steady sound of rain falling outside.

The familiar thrum of anger made itself known as he tested his restraints again. The handcuffs didn't so much as wiggle and the addition of the collar was an unnecessary discomfort for certain. Still, he tried to free himself with a flex of strength but the restraints only bit into his skin further. He let loose a snarl of frustration. With the carved enchantments he was reduced to only his vessel's physical strength which wasn't nearly as impressive as his demonic stamina.

How could he be reduced to such a state? He was the King of Hell! He knew better than to let Dean Winchester get within arm's reach of him, dumb lumberjack or not. He was smarter, stronger, _better_ than this, yet, here he was, chained to a goddamn chair. Nothing seemed to be going his way, not for long at least. He'd win some battles, because of the aforementioned reasons, but then he'd lose others and that would typically set him back two steps. An arrangement he strongly disliked. He was always supposed to be ten steps ahead.

A few moments later, the door opened again, and though he couldn't quite turn his head enough to see which hunter it was exactly, but he did recognized the footsteps of the youngest Winchester. The giant's footfalls were hard to miss, while quieter than most due to their years of hunting, to a demon such as himself it was still clear as day. He was confused when he wasn't immediately approached, instead another door was opened and then closed. Craning his neck, he could see the old ratty door of the chapel's confessional.

Interesting.

A fair portion of time passed before Sam left the confessional and the chapel altogether, and in even less time he was back inside, making his way to the front of the room. There was an abandoned altar and the hunters had laid out the tools they had deemed necessary for their trial. He saw the shine of a needle and Sam began to draw blood from his own vein, filling the syringe, a small noise of discomfort escaping him.

"You really think injecting me with human blood is going to make _me_ human?" Crowley scoffed. "Did you read that on the back of a cereal box?"

Sam didn't respond to his jab as he turned around to face him. The demon took into account that the human was looking worse for wear. His frame seemed lighter, his cheekbones protruding, and his eyes were rimmed red, as if he wasn't sleeping well or perhaps crying. It had been quite some time since he last saw him so weary.

Crowley was grabbed by the hair, his head forced to the side exposing his neck and the tip of the needle was jabbed through the skin, forcing the hot human blood into his body. Biting back an outcry at the rude stabbing, he kept his wits and smirked up at him instead, chuckling.

"You're miles out of your league, Moose."

* * *

 _He didn't know how much time he had, so he had to move fast. Who knew when Castiel would decide to rain his own godly judgement for turning to Raphael's side? It only took a thought for him to be back in his personal quarters in Hell. All high ceilings, beautifully crafted furniture, and ornate hand stitched floor rugs. The lavishly designed room offered him no comfort as he immediately rushed into his office._

 _Slamming the door closed behind him, he wasted no time in tearing into his desk's drawers. Crossroad demons all had their own methods of organizing their contracted souls. Each one was different with how they chose to arrange their paperwork, it was a preference. His contracts were meticulously organized, nary a hair out of place. Rosette's contract in particular was kept close at hand and hidden away. It was…unusual for a human soul to have so many extra promises, so to speak, especially dedicated to the demon they were dealing with directly. Everything about her deal was out of the ordinary. It was practically hand made for him. He couldn't have asked for anything more and he wasn't one to turn down a good deal._

 _Her soul, virginity, and eternal servitude were all promised to him personally. It was the most the human girl could offer to the demon. She was putting all of her faith in him with her declaration._

 _He pulled open the bottom drawer and he heard the small sound of a panel shifting and he bent down to peer under his desk. Reaching out, his nails caught on the slight lift in the otherwise perfectly polished surface and he flicked open the secret door. There was the slightest show of color and he quickly snatched the manila folder. Straightening up to his full height, he promptly opened the file._

 _Empty._

 _A beat passed and the bare dossier slowly fell from his hands to the floor as Crowley could only stare in disbelief. No one knew that he kept her contract hidden away. No one knew of the full extent of their deal._

 _Someone dared to steal from the King of Hell._

 _The door to his office flew open without him so much as moving his hand as he stormed out of his office. He didn't try to reign in his anger, rather, he allowed it to lash out freely, the demonic energy crackling around him as he made his way down the corridor. His body was practically shaking as his rage rose to unprecedented heights._

 _The demons flinched away as the door was thrown open by an unseen force, cracking the stone wall behind it. Crowley's gaze slowly swept the room, the weight of King's glare heavy. The demons that were present were to greet him in the throne room each time he returned to Hell. They were his advisors in a way, his high ranked demons that reported directly to him and the first to carry out his word._

" _Y-your Majesty…?" stammered the one immediately to his left. Crowley didn't look at him, his gaze locked on the group as a whole. His expression was carefully composed while his energy continued to build, growing almost like tornado. The air in the room was quickly becoming thick with power, seemingly suffocating while he calmly asked,_

" _Do you know why I'm the King of Hell?"_

 _They stammered, looking to one another for assistance. They were confused by the anger and they didn't want to somehow answer incorrectly._

" _B-because you're the strongest…?"_

 _The outpour of pure demonic energy suddenly raged, sending the demons flat to the floor. The sheer heat alone threatened to peel the flesh from their stolen vessels and they were incapable of resisting the force, only able to stare on with wide eyes, gasping for air as their muscles contracted uselessly._

" _If that's the case, then why would someone steal from me?"_

" _N….no….never…my King…!" choked out one._

" _Oh, but someone has." His shoes clipped against the stone floor as he paced the room, sharp eyes studying each contorted face of his staff._

" _Someone has decided to steal from me. Now who would dare do such a thing?"_

" _I…d-don't…know…" gagged another._

 _A humorless chuckle escaped him as he watched with interest as his staff writhed under his ability._

" _Well, you had best find out shouldn't you?"_

" _Y-yes…of c-course…!"_

 _A suspect came to mind and he abruptly stilled, the unbearable pressure leaving the air and his subjects heaved, grateful for the ability to breathe once more._

 _There was_ one _other person that could have stolen from him. Not because of any individual skill but due to the information they may have been privy to at just the right time. Crowley was equal parts frustrated with himself for not thinking of her earlier, and proper rage was rising up again at her audacity._

 _So she thought she could steal from him? Of all the things to take from him…he was going to show her the true meaning of torture. There would be no reprieve. He would peel her skin from her body, the muscles and tendons too. The scalpel would scrape against her bones. He'd pluck the eyes from her head. He would take her to the very brink of death and then yank her back. Again and again, until everything was set back to the way it should be and he saw that retribution was dealt._

 _She was possessing Rosette at the time of his fabricated death. While the girl and the Winchesters wouldn't know any better, the demon would be well-aware that his claim on her soul still remained. If he had really died his mark on her soul would have dissipated as well, releasing Hell's hold on her._

" _Bring Meg to me. Alive."_

 _There was no doubt in his mind that she was the one responsible. He had taken painstaking care to keep his deal and especially his relations with Rosette secret. No one needed to know just how much he was to gain with her contract and if other demons knew that he favored her, it would make her a target due to his status as King. Since Meg had possessed Rosette, she knew what the girl did, which included all of their encounters and all…all of human's emotions toward the demon…_

 _He was going show Meg the true meaning of torture and crush her like the insect he knew her to be._

* * *

Crowley breathed in deeply through his nose, doing well to keep quiet because he didn't need Sam to start observing him too closely. It had been quite some time since he thought back to that day. That anger that was always present within him reared its head at the resurfaced memory and he had to take another deep breath, his hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly.

It had been so long since that day. Since he lost her. He had sent out his council to spread the word that Meg was to be brought to him, alive. He didn't care what condition she was in, but she needed to be able to answer his questions. The word for her capture spread far and fast, demons rushing to hunt her down because Hell with an outraged King wasn't one anyone with any common sense wanted.

Sam took a deep breath of his own from his spot at the front of the church. He had kept his back to the demon as the hour passed, not sparing a single glance, only checking his own watch. He carefully watched as Sam picked up the empty syringe and brought it to his arm, drawing the blood from his veins again. Time for another dose.

His mind worked quickly as the hunter turned to face him and approached him, his pace slow. Sam's body was breaking down it seemed. He didn't even look at him, focused solely on his goal.

It took some restraint to remain perfectly still, even when the oversized hunter put his hand on his head and moved it to the side, exposing his neck once more. The syringe bit into the unprotected skin making him close his eyes at the discomfort. Once again, the hot human blood oozed into his body. As soon as the needle was removed from him, he used his position to grab Sam's arm, bringing the uncovered forearm to his mouth where he sank his teeth in as deep as he could. Blood pooled in his mouth as Sam shouted, ripping his arm free. A perfect set of teeth marks reflected in the skin.

"What the hell, Crowley?!" he shouted out. He quickly brought his fist up and the punch snapped the demon's head to the side. Damn, he didn't bite his dominant arm. After all the years of clashing he should be used to the way they hit, but the Winchesters were always surprising with their strength, especially given their human status. Though he could tell the hit didn't have its usual force as he was able to keep the blood in his mouth easily. Sam's physicality truly seemed to be crumbling.

"Biting? Seriously?!" Sam scolded, keeping pressure on the injury as he stormed out of the church.

When he was certain the door had closed and the hunter was far enough away, he brought his hand up and carefully opened his mouth, not wanting to waste a single drop. Scarcely a handful of blood, he couldn't tell if it was enough to make a call but he had to try.

" _Inferni sectatores, nunc audite regem_ ," he spelled, causing the splattered blood to bubble. A connection. No matter how small, he had to take it. Checking around once more, he was relieved to see that he was still alone. He brought the blood closer, whispering,

"For the love of everything, whoever is hearing this—if anyone is hearing this—this is your King. Send help immediately."

He quickly wiped away the blood on the interior of his overcoat. No need for Moose to notice and start asking questions. It seemed to be just a moment before his mind seemed to go fuzzy with memories again. He just needed to hang on until someone came for him. Surely his subjects would come for their King.

* * *

 _There had been no word of progress anywhere. It seemed as though there was not a single, competent demon that could track down Meg._

" _I-I apologize, my King," stammered one demon. He was rather fresh faced, new off the rack. There was a reason the others had put him up to report the bad news. His predecessors had met with a rather permanent end at the conclusion of previous reports. "I'm afraid…we don't have any leads on Meg…"_

" _No leads?" Crowley repeated, his voice deceptively mild. He deftly yet idly twirled a small silver blade with one hand as he sat on his throne. "So, you mean to tell me that even after months of sending teams upon teams of demons, the best so you claim, and here we are, ages later and still…you have no leads on that whore? Not a single one?"_

 _The demon gulped. It sounded so much worse when said out loud and when presented with their previous failed efforts._

" _Clearly, she is still alive as the search teams either don't come back at all or they don't have anything to report. Frankly, I'm conflicted as to which is worse."_

 _The knife seemed to gleam sinisterly in the low lighting as he gave it another twirl._

" _At least when the teams are killed, that's proof that Meg's alive. So when you come back to me and say that you don't have any leads, what does that do for me?"_

" _I-I don't—"_

" _Nothing," he interrupted him coolly. "It does absolutely nothing for me. In fact, you're wasting my time by even breathing, aren't you, Stephan?"_

 _Stephan's next words came out in a rush, startled gaze distracted by the knife that was still slowly moving. He had to keep talking, keep the conversation rolling so to buy himself some more time._

" _Wh-why does it matter?"_

 _The air seemed to vanish from the room and the new demon's face suddenly went slack with fear._

 _The knife had gone still in the King's hands and Crowley's expression had shifted to a frightening calm._

" _I'm sorry—I'm sorry—I didn't—" stammered Stephan, fumbling for words. It wouldn't do him any good, it was too late._

" _Why does it matter?" Crowley repeated slowly. His gaze sharpened as he pinned the demon with the razor sharp look. The other demons that were in attendance didn't dare to step in. The new kid had dug his own grave._

" _Tell me, Stephan. Do you think the King of Hell should be stolen from?"_

" _No—of course not, your Majesty!" he answered quickly. "I only—I only meant, you're the King, so—so what could she have possibly taken from you?"_

" _So you're saying that if it was something small she had taken then it shouldn't matter? That it's perfectly fine for someone to steal from the King as long as it is perceived as insignificant?"_

" _N-no! No, of—of course not!"_

 _The ramblings of the frightened demon fell on deaf ears as Crowley could only feel his own anger rise, uncoiling from deep within him. Anger was ever present emotion with him. Of course, he was a demon and it only made sense, but it was more visceral than the anger he felt before. It had been months since Rosette…since she was taken from him. Months, and there was nary hide nor hair the wretched demon Meg. The teams that he sent out to find her resulted in their death or no information at all. She was good at hiding, staying low to the ground like the worm she was._

 _It also didn't sit well that it was January 1_ _st_ _that day on Earth. He should be sneaking away from his kingly responsibilities for a visit to the red haired girl. It was the anniversary of the day they struck their deal. Ever since she summoned him the following year and offered him tea, the tradition took form. Most times she would know he was there, and sometimes he couldn't get too close but he always had the feeling that she somehow knew he was nearby._

 _While months passed back on Earth, it was decades down in Hell due to the difference in time flow._

 _Decades without Rosette._

 _It used to be a possible thing back when their contract started but ever since she was dragged into the whirlwind that was the Winchesters, they got to see each other far more frequently. Even regularly in a way before he had to fake his own death. What was once a normalcy, their yearly visits, was no longer good enough. He wanted to be able to pop in whenever he pleased. He wanted her to call his name and to teleport to her. The way she would light up when she saw him gave him a satisfying rush of pride and he would even smile slightly in return._

 _He even had his hound scouring Hell for her. It should have been a simple task due to his new alignment of the underworld, but when he whistled for his favored hound, Juliet, she returned with her head and tail low. Not even she could find Rosette. Which led to the question once again: where was she? Where was her soul? Was Meg somehow keeping it with her as she hid? Because he knew for a fact that…that there was no body for her to be returned to…_

 _The image of the burning pyre was forever seared into his mind. The body perfectly wrapped as it sat on top of the arranged funeral pyre, the flames swallowing the body whole. It was a too strange sight, one he couldn't completely grasp even as he watched the funeral take place in Singer's Salvage Yard. Sam, Dean, and Bobby were all standing outside but he hardly noticed them, his eyes locked on the girl's form. He could feel his body trembling and it was taking all of his willpower to keep his power contained. All he wanted to do was lash out, grab her by the shoulders and scream at her to wake up until he shouted himself hoarse._

 _That was why he needed her soul to be found. He could reconstruct her body, it was within his ability, but it still made his stomach twist into knots as he watched the last of her physical form burn away. He needed her soul. He needed her to be existing somehow, somewhere..._

 _He gave the barest flick of his wrist and the stammering new demon was nothing more than ash._

* * *

He opened his eyes and the church came into view again. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair so tightly it took him a moment to force his body to relax enough to let go. The anger and frustration was still boiling too close to the surface.

Years, decades, _centuries_ —

His teeth clicked together as he clenched his jaw, forcing down the brewing emotions. Rage, frustration, desperation, he swallowed it back down. Now wasn't the time.

Red hair, bright blue eyes, and that _smile_ …

His chest dared to ache and it took considerable effort to will the snippets of memories away from the front of his mind. That cursed human blood crawling through his stolen body was turning up memories that he had buried deep beneath layers of anger, hatred, biting sarcasm and wit, and the occasional torture session. It was better that they stayed buried, forgotten even.

Was it possible to forget? He had been alive for hundreds of years (countless years by Hell's time) and he had moved past his human emotions long ago. A person wasn't free from the rack and its inner workings until the humanity was flayed away, the soul's brilliance scoured into nothing. Only then could they be twisted into demons. That being said, he shouldn't be as fixated on the hurt as he was, it didn't make sense. Technically, he should be able to brush off her existence. She was nothing. Dust in the wind in the grand scheme of everything. He was a demon. He was forever.

But what he would give to call her name again—

Sam was in front of him again and forced the demon's head to the side. The needle slipped into his neck and the human blood invaded his body once more. He closed his eyes as the hunter turned and made his way back to the front of the church.

It didn't take long for the next memory to surface…

* * *

 _A summoning was cast for him. The familiar call rang in the back of his mind, urging him to answer it._

 _The Winchesters._

 _How perfect that he was currently being kept in Dick Roman's office via devil's trap and couldn't answer the call even if he wanted to. He and the lead Leviathan were nearly finished combing through his standard contract, making the requested changes and triple checking for trick clauses. As much as he loved a good contract, even Dick Roman managed to bleed the fun out of it. The Purgatory boss monster was catching every line and twisting it to his kind's benefit. The demons were offered immunity and all of Canada if they left America to the monsters. Not exactly his ideal divide, but he was also a fan of not being killed or copied by one of the monsters. As dashing as he was, he certainly did not want a doppelganger of himself running around. He had enough headaches as it was._

 _Finally, their contract was completed and the devil's trap was released and the King of Hell wasted no time in vanishing out of the fancy, contemporary office of SucraCorp. Now he just needed to answer the summoning and that will be one more nuisance solved. A demon could ignore a summoning if they had enough power. Lesser ones were pulled unwillingly to the site, like a magnet. As the King, he could ignore them completely if he so wished to exert the effort._

 _The cabin came into view and he kept his presence hidden as he willed himself into the hideout._

 _He was surprised to see more figures inside. There was Sam and Dean, of course, and he nearly dropped his invisibility when he saw the other two people who were present._

 _Castiel and Meg._

" _Guys…what's all that?" asked Meg, gesturing to the bowl filled with the ingredients that summoned the King._

" _We called Crowley," answered Sam._

" _You—_ what _?"_

 _There was a tremor in her voice that brought a dangerous smirk to his lips. She was scared and she had every bloody right to be. How was it that he had expended countless demons, effort, and time searching for this one damned woman and he just happened to come across her during a Winchester call?_

 _Dean shrugged. "Don't worry. He never showed."_

" _What do you mean "never"—"_

" _Do you see him anywhere? He stood us up," interrupted the hunter, annoyed._

" _Well, I'm sorry about that, but I'm outie. He could still sh—"_

 _His voice cut through hers like a knife._

" _Show up at any time."_

 _Allowing his cover to fall away, he fought to keep himself composed. His back was straight, hands in his pockets, but there was no denying that there was a vicious bloodlust radiating from him._

" _Hello, boys," he greeted tersely. He could see Castiel behind the two hunters, dressed in his usual coat and what looked like hospital issued pajamas. A peculiar fashion statement._

" _Sorry, I'm late," he said, a devious smirk daring to pull at his mouth as he noticed both Meg and Castiel were paling at the sight of him. Good. The last time he had seen either one was before Rosette was killed._

 _Stolen from him._

" _This_ is _an embarrassment of riches," he tutted, looking between the two, for once not bothered by the brothers. Meg dared to move barely a half a step before he stilled her with a single look. "Stay, won't you? There's really nowhere to run."_

 _Not one to give up so quickly, Meg made for the door but he was faster, teleporting to the exact spot between her and the exit._

" _Don't even think of smoking out, pussycat," he told her, raising a finger as if she was a misbehaving pet. "I've got eyes all over the place."_

 _Perks to being the King, his own personal army was at his every beck and call. There was no way that he was letting her escape. Finally, he had the wretched whore where he wanted and she was going to give him some answers—_

" _Leave her be."_

 _Slowly, he turned to look a Castiel who was speaking up for her. Oh, now he wanted to stand up for someone? That was perfectly_ rich _._

" _Castiel." His well-polished shoes clipped against the wooden floor. "When last we spoke, you—well, enslaved me, scrambled Moose's brains a la Hell, and, oh yes,_ _ **you killed Rosette**_ _."_

 _Her name hung heavily in the air._

 _Rosette._

" _I—I—"_

" _So, why aren't you dead?"_

" _I…don't know."_

" _Well, do you want to be? 'Cause I can certainly help with that."_

" _All right, enough," intervened Dean sternly, stepping between the two._

" _It's enough when I say," he growled dangerously. "I came here to help you. I find out that you've been lying to me, harboring an angel, and not just_ any _angel—the one angel I most want to crush between my teeth."_

 _Meg's voice sounded from behind him, unable to keep her mouth shut._

" _So you can crush angels now, huh?"_

 _He turned to give a pitying scoff._

" _You bore me. You know that? You have no sense of poetry."_

 _He turned back to face Castiel, unconcerned with Meg potentially running away. His demons would stop her. Every damned soul was currently looking for her, if not actively, they were all painfully aware of her wanted status. Due to her actions, the rest of Hell was suffering their King's wrath and if anyone got their hands on her they would make her pay for the damages they had been forced to take._

" _Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"_

 _The angel stammered slightly. "Well, I'm still, uh, honing my communication strategy. I haven't even been back to heaven. I—I keep thinking there are no insects up there, but here we have…trillions. You know, they're making honey and silk and…miracles, really."_

 _What in the hell was he going on about? What did insects have to do with what he asked? He wanted to hear from the angel directly. Wanted to hear what he was thinking the moment he removed the sigils. Was he in cohorts with Meg? Was her death planned?_

" _What're you talking about?" he interrupted the rambling._

" _Um, preferring insects to angels, I guess." Cas pulled a plastic bag from his coat pocket filled with a pale substance. "Here, I can offer a token, if you'd like. It's honey. I—I collected it myself."_

 _The King of Hell slowly looked between the angel and the hunters, who looked not nearly as surprised as him about Castiel offering a ziplock bag of honey from his pocket. Was this the new normal for the once angel-God?_

" _You're off your rocker," he muttered. Cas turned away, taking his honey with him while the demon turned to Dean. "He's off his rocker—is that it?"_

 _The silence was answer enough._

" _Karma's a bitch, ain't it?' he couldn't help but scoff, picking up the unattended glass of alcohol from the table._

 _Dean spoke up again._

" _Look, did you come here to, uh, doggy-punch your old grudges—"_

 _Crowley gave the eldest Winchester a sharp glare at his choice of words. Just an old grudge? What a disgusting way to refer to his outrage at Rosette's death._

 _Sam stepped forward, reading the energy shift in the room. Always the mediator._

" _Listen, this isn't the time or the place to talk about—about Rose. We need to know if you'll help us end Dick Roman or not. Pick a battle."_

" _Well, I'm vexed. I'd like to do both, but where's the fun in clobbering a ball of wet fur?" he grumbled. "Text me when Sparkles here retrieves his marbles, I suppose. Meanwhile…a prezzie."_

 _He pulled out a small vial of his blood from the inner pocket of his suit's jacket._

" _Really? Just boxed up and ready to go?" Sam couldn't help but snip at him._

" _I'm a model of efficiency."_

" _Really? Then why were you late?"_

 _He shrugged, nonplussed. "Dick had me in a devil's trap. He's not an idiot. He knows what you two are after."_

 _Worry overtook heir features again. They were too easy to read and play for that matter._

" _So what did he offer you?"_

" _A fair deal," he answered breezily. "In exchange of giving you the wrong blood…its demon, but is it mine?"_

 _He allowed the silence to fall for dramatic purposes. Might as well play with them for a bit since he couldn't take out his frustrations on Meg or Castiel in that moment._

" _It's my blood. Real deal," he conceded._

 _Dean was quick to doubt him. "And why should we trust you?"_

" _Good God, don't. Never trust anyone. A little lesson I learned from my last business partner," he admonished, dealing the angel another withering look. Castiel had the decency to keep his head lowered and didn't meet his gaze._

" _All right. Then give us the blood," said Dean sternly, holding out his hand._

" _Certainly. Oh, one more thing." He turned to look at Meg who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there. His tone was deceivingly calm as he addressed the woman._

" _Meg, I'm gonna scoop you up, take you home, and roast you till you're jerky." She shifted uncomfortably, wanting nothing more than to smoke out and he gave a predatory smile. "But not...yet. Cas can have you for now. Hilariously, it seems he'd be upset at losing you. And the boys need Cas to get Dick. Don't they Cas?"_

 _The angel stumbled over his words. "Oh, I—I don't fight anymore…"_

 _He sneered at the outrageous stance. "Come on. Given the particulars of your enemy, sadly, you're vital."_

 _He tossed the vial of blood to Sam and vanished without another word. He had a lock on Meg and he would get his answers soon._

* * *

The church slowly came back into focus, his vision bleary. Sweat dared to dampen the back of his neck and he fought to control his breathing.

That last memory was a heavy one. Finally finding Meg and facing Castiel again all at the same time was a lot to deal with at once. It was largely disappointing that he couldn't go toe to toe with the angel right then. He couldn't imagine how satisfying it would've been to unleash the full force of his power and the strength of Hell against the angel. To let all of his rage fall on the angel's head would be therapeutic in a way. Cleansing, even. He did enough torturing to understand the power and euphoric release it provided.

But it was necessary to let him go. The Winchesters needed him to get rid of Dick Roman and he needed the big chomper out of Hell's way.

Sam's footsteps sounded again and he didn't even bother to look at the hunter as he pushed his head to the side, revealing his neck. There was the now familiar sensation of the needle sinking into his body, the new dose of human blood invading him.

He had time. His demons would respond to his call. There was no way this "cure" would work.

He was the King.

* * *

 _The sound of screaming echoed in his laboratory, the voice bouncing sharply against the power washed white tiles. Crowley's hands were slick with blood as he hummed along with the radio that was gently playing in the background. His apron was drenched in red as he made his way back to the table. At this rate he would need to change into a fresh one. It had been quite some time since he had a torture session so bloody._

 _The specimen was strapped down to the silver table, their body stretched out into an X shape so to expose every inch of tender skin._

 _Well, when there was skin._

" _How are we now, Meg? Feeling chatty yet?"_

 _There was a gurgle and a clack of teeth that made him chuckle darkly._

" _Ah yes, I suppose talking would be difficult for you."_

 _He gave a snap of his fingers and her tongue was restored as was the skin on her face and neck._

" _Fuck…y-you…"_

" _Well, that's hardly polite," he tutted as he strolled around the table. Now standing by the head of the table, he leaned down so to speak softly in her ear._

" _Where. Is. Rosette?"_

 _Her voice came out in a rasp. "Heh…Rosie's…far away…from you…"_

 _He snapped his fingers and the edges of her newly acquired skin began to slowly burn, turning black from the heat as it made its way higher at an excruciating pace._

" _I'm afraid that's old news," he sighed. "Let's try something a bit more recent."_

 _A small slender pike found its way into his hand, its end covered in spikes of varying sizes, and he stuck it effortlessly deep within her ear canal and twisted. Meg screamed again, writhing against her bonds._

 _Crowley shifted over to her only good ear, whispering._

" _Now…try again."_

" _Y-you're so…heh…pissed off…over some meat suit…?"she choked out, blood bubbling at the corners of her mouth. "Couldn't make her…your weak spot any—any easier…"_

 _With a squelching sound, he yanked the spike out of her ear unceremoniously._

 _He hissed while she screamed, "You_ will _tell me where she is."_

 _The scream devolved into hysterical laughter, Meg choking on her own breath, bloody froth dribbling from the corners of her mouth._

" _Doesn't matter…she'll…heh…she'll never be yours again…!" she cackled. "Not where…not where I've sent her…heheheh…practically jealous of that little bitch…"_

 _Crowley plunged his hand into her mouth and ripped out her tongue once more._

" _Clearly…you need more time to think."_

* * *

The sweat stung his eyes as he managed to escape the memory, his skin feeling flushed. All that anger…that was something he could handle…He knew how to manipulate it to his benefit…he was a demon after all.

Meg had been his prisoner since the Leviathans were defeated. He had his boys grab her after she acted as the Winchester's distraction, fulfilling her purpose. Then when Dick Roman was killed, Dean and Castiel taken along for the ride due to their proximity to the boss monster, and he had captured Kevin Tran, the Prophet of the Lord, only then did he turn his time and energy to her.

She was already on the rack when he walked into his laboratory and he whistled a tune while he tied his apron on over his suit. He turned on the radio and music filled the room while he brought over the trolley filled with a wide variety of instruments so to fit his eclectic needs. He was going to use everything at his disposal to crack the traitorous demon.

" _I've waited a long time for this, whore,"_ he remembered telling her. The wench had the audacity to laugh at him. While the action made her so unthreatened, he could see her body coiling tight, preparing for some kind of strike.

" _Not as long as Rosette's been waiting for you,"_ she dared to taunt.

He needed no reminder of the time difference between Hell and Earth. He was acutely aware of day, month, and year that was passing while she remained lost to him. The words crawled under his skin and he swiftly drove a dull knife through her outstretched arm, forcing it through the humerus bone of her stolen body.

And that was how their sessions would go. They would bicker back and forth and he would put her through an unprecedented torture. Ages they would volley, her comments would be met with his devices incurring pain tenfold. She would give up snippets of information in between her crass remarks, never giving up the full story at once.

Yes, she had stolen Rosette's contract from him. Apparently, some of his demons were bribed, so he promptly had them killed. He didn't have time for any wavering loyalty.

Yes, she did manage to change the holder of the contract through serious time, blood, and effort. In fact, she had only just gotten it changed over the day the sigils were removed. There was no relation to Castiel making his God-like judgement on the red haired girl mere hours after Meg's success in transferring the contract.

" _Talk about perfect timing though…"_ she had choked out in a laugh.

He didn't understand how she would have come up with the power to change a crossroad's deal, least of all one belonging to the King of Hell. She didn't say who held the contract now, only that it wasn't her. She said that she wouldn't dare go where Rosette was being held. That wasn't entirely helpful as Meg was rather hated down in Hell due to her assisting the Winchesters and Castiel and bringing the King's wrath down on everyone. She wasn't welcomed anywhere in Hell.

No matter how much he dug at her, broke her down physically and continually restored her only to do it again, prying her bones and muscles apart, she didn't give a name. All she would say that it was someone that wasn't afraid of him, which was ridiculous because he was the King and any demon with any sense was afraid of him. He wasn't afraid of making an example of anyone, killing them with a snap of his fingers, or taking part in an impromptu torture session to prove his point.

As he was the King of Hell, he did have a kingdom to run so he would have to leave Meg on ice for periods of time. It didn't take long for the lull to shift when Dean Winchester escaped Purgatory and returned to the land of the living. His Prophet had already gone missing, the Winchester brothers were reunited, they then kill one of his Hellhounds (thankfully not his favorite, Juliet) and he learned about their plan to shut the gates of Hell for good.

Then he finds out that there was an angel tablet hidden away in one of Lucifer's crypts. Lucky for him, he had one of his loyalists on the rack and Meg was able to make herself useful. No so lucky was the fact they were unsuccessful and the angel Castiel was smiting his demons along the way. Then the very same angel found the tablet and immediately took. He was so frustrated with their lack of winning and of Meg's half-truths. He was already beating her bloody, it wasn't exactly a challenge, when the Winchester's Impala peeled out of there. The angel blade in his hand sank into Meg's abdomen, the familiar crackle of light illuminating her from the inside.

" _M-my unicorn got away…but yours…heh…is locked away f-forever…"_

He ripped the blade out and watched her fall to the ground, dead. Obviously she was lying. He _would_ find Rosette. Hell was a big place but he was turning over every stone with or without her intel. Sooner or later she would turn up. She had to. No one could be hidden from him. Not indefinitely.

All in all, everything soon spiraled into a mess as it always did. Ever since stopping the Apocalypse there was a new worldly threat ever year it seemed. For once, it would be nice if there wasn't some monster or angel showdown making the world their playground.

He was so tired. Of everything. The never ending anger, the lack of answers, the mounting frustrations—

The needle pierced his neck once again, startling him from his thoughts. How did he not notice Sam approach him? Once again the blood invaded his system and he found himself closing his eyes as soon as the hunter turned his back.

What he would give to see his darling Rosette again…

* * *

 _Honestly, he didn't know what brought him to the house. The yellow farmhouse out past the edge of town was just as he remembered it. Two rocking chairs on the front porch, the hummingbird feeders in the garden, the red barn just a ways off, filled with tools and projects._

 _Up on the second floor, above the roof of the porch, was a window with its curtains drawn, the lights mutely shining through._

 _It took hardly a thought for him to teleport into the room and he glanced around at the new decorations. Where there were once two beds now resided one queen size with a few throw blankets haphazardly laid out over the edge. Canvas images hung out the wall and there was a large familiar bookcase off to the side filled to the brim with books, school binders and everything in between. There were tiny fairy lights hanging around the room as well, suffusing it with another soft glow of light._

 _The person he was looking for was sitting at a desk, the surface covered with papers, opens books and notes that were then meticulously placed on the edge of her computer monitor or pinned to the bulletin board before her. She was so much older from the last time he saw her. Her strawberry blonde hair was worn in a messy braid down her back while she leaned over her work, dressed in leggings and an oversized sweatshirt as she worked on her project, her pencil scribbling away._

" _Long time no see."_

 _She jumped at his sudden voice and appearance since he let his invisibility fall away. After all his time as a demon, it was still fun to scare others with his abrupt presence. What he didn't expect was when he tried to step forward to be stopped by an unseen force. He looked down at his feet to see unmarked carpet and when he looked up the ceiling was bare as well. Confused, he sniffed the air and he could detect the faintest scent of lemon juice and he smirked, impressed. Well, that was certainly clever. Essentially invisible ink._

" _What—"_

 _In the time that he looked away, the girl had left her chair and she was standing with her back to the bookcase, a Windex bottle in her hand and pointed directly at him. He raised an interested brow._

" _And what exactly do you plan to do with that? Clean up my act? Make me sparkle?"_

 _Despite her shaking hands, she pulled down on the bottle's spray handle and the nozzle's setting had been changed to send out a steady stream and it splashed him square in the face._

 _He let out a muffled shout as his skin hissed as the contact of holy water and he brought his arm up to quickly rub the offensive liquid from his face._

" _What the hell—?!"_

" _So you're a demon then," she identified. She brought her spray bottle up again, threatening him with another hit. "Who are you? Why are you here? What're you up to?"_

" _Well I'm certainly not here for your little holy spritz, kitten," he snarked, running his hand over his face once more. With a sigh, he returned his hands to his pockets. "I'm here about your sister."_

 _Her stern expression lessened immediately and she lowered her makeshift weapon. Blue eyes were wanting to trust but she was holding herself back. Smart girl, he credited._

" _What about my sister?" she asked him carefully._

" _When was the last time you heard from her?"_

 _Her mouth twitched downward in a worried frown. "Over a month ago…"_

 _That lined up with the series of events. It also meant that the hunters hadn't reached out to the littlest Herondale. He felt a flame of indignation flicker to life within him at the thought._

" _Have you been in contact with Sam or Dean Winchester?"_

" _No," she answered, shaking her head. "And who are you? How do you know all of these people? How do you know me?"_

" _Well, the first part is quite a lengthy story, but I've known you for some time. Years, actually."_

 _She narrowed her eyes and he sighed again._

" _The name's Crowley."_

 _She still looked confused and she moved toward her computer, quickly pulling up a file and typing something with her one free hand._

" _Crowley, the demon King of Hell," she read out loud. "Also known as the King of the Crossroads. While his specialty is in making crossroad deals, you can trust him. Just him."_

 _This time he raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize you had my dossier."_

 _Grace set the bottle down on her desk, turning to look at him again, still on guard._

" _Rose emails me. Why would she say to trust you? I've never met you before," she demanded._

" _Ah, you pain me, Grace," he played, placing a hand over his heart as if her words wounded him. "Surely you remember a certain astounding recovery where you came back from the brink of death?"_

" _What do you—what do you mean?"_

 _No point in beating around the bush. "I mean when I healed you of your sickness when you were a child."_

 _After a moment of digesting his words, she gave a little shake of her head, her bangs swaying._

" _N-no, the doctors said it was a miracle…" she argued weakly._

" _Well, you can call me whatever you'd like, poppet. Miracle worker, act of God, whatever suits your fancy."_

" _But why?" she pressed, edging closer to where he stood. "Why would you care if I lived or died?"_

" _I didn't," he answered with a shrug, "but guess who did?"_

 _Realization was beginning to dawn on her as her face paled further. He mildly noticed that she didn't have nearly as many freckles as her sister. Rosette's cheeks and bridge of her nose were dusted with them. Well, the ginger gene was more rampant in her as well and the two genes tended to go hand in hand._

" _Rose…"_

" _Correct."_

 _She wet her lips before speaking. "So…what—what did she—or what did you and her do? Or how did you even meet?"_

" _She called. Summoned me actually," he explained. "Then demanded that I save you. Rather forward, your sister, but I'm not one to turn down a business opportunity."_

 _Grace held up her hand to stop him. "Wait—business opportunity?"_

" _Crossroad demons are like salesmen for Hell," he defined. "We're in the business of making dreams come true."_

" _But how did Rose pay you? She hadn't started working at the diner yet when I got better," she argued. He gave the girl a somber look. He had to make his explanation plain._

" _To broker a deal with me she offered her soul. Her soul for your health."_

 _Her face crumbled immediately at his words and he felt a thread of guilt flash through him. He found himself studying her, noticing the similarities between the two sisters. The curve of the jaw, the slope of the nose. Hell, even the way she was carrying herself was near identical. For some reason he found that more upsetting. That she was so similar in so many points but, alas, she was not her sister. No one could match Rosette. Not to him._

 _He was pulled from his thoughts when the girl pointed the spray bottle at him once more. This time her entire body was trembling as she tightened her grip on the trigger, ready to splash him again with the blessed water._

" _No…" she told him. "You're lying. Rose wouldn't—she wouldn't sell her soul. She wouldn't."_

 _He gave a small shrug. "Desperate times call for desperate measures, poppet."_

" _But a soul is—it's immortal!" she argued, her voice cracking as she half shouted at him. "If she—if she gave that up then she-she can't—she can't go to heaven when she dies!"_

 _The discomfort in his chest only grew when the girl's accusation hit true._

" _That is correct, I'm afraid," he answered truthfully. "When a soul is bartered away it is then condemned to Hell for eternity upon their death in exchanged for what they asked."_

 _Tears were quickly pooling in her eyes, slipping down her cheeks as she shook her head._

" _No—no!" she denied, breathless. "She couldn't have—I mean, why would she give up her—her soul? It—"_

" _It was the most she could give," he spoke up. "She offered everything in exchange for me to heal you and not a minute too soon. You were fading away. You wouldn't have made it through the night in your state."_

 _She made to keep arguing, opening and closing her mouth but no words came out. The spray bottle was lowered as her bottom lip quivered, trying to come to grips with what she was being told._

 _Crowley could only guess what was going through her head. The weight that someone would give up their very essence for another was a heavy sacrifice._

" _She did it because she loved you," he told her, his voice slightly softer. She looked up at him with wide eyes, her cheeks now slick with tears. "She did it because you didn't deserve to die so young. That you were so smart and so kind that the world couldn't afford to lose you just yet. Because God was wrong for trying to take you away."_

 _A small hiccup escaped her and she used her sleeve to rub her face dry, wiping her nose with a sniff. Taking a breath, she stood up straighter and looked him right in the eye._

" _So if you're here telling me all this…" She took another shaky breath. "Then where is my sister?"_

" _Technically, she was killed by a Hellhound and, for the moment, her soul is lost to me."_

 _Grace rocked back slightly on her heels at his words._

" _S-so she's—?"_

" _Lost, for the moment," he told her, choosing his words deliberately. It was a problem that he could fix. "Death isn't a permanent sentence, poppet. I'll find your sister and bring her back."_

" _Do you promise?"_

" _I swear."_

* * *

It was too quiet in the church, Crowley realized. He hadn't been nearly as talkative as he normally would be in any other situation. He was being too compliant to the human blood clogging up his system. Sam's back was still turned to him as he stood up at the altar, hands tightly gripping the edge so to stay upright.

His dry chuckle carried easily in the large room.

"How're we doing, Moose? Ain't it about time for the next love injection?" he cajoled. Sam wearily turned to glare at him and the demon broke out into a throaty song. _"Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes turn and face the strange ch-ch-changes, just gonna have to be a different man. Time may change me, but I can't trace—"_

His mockery was interrupted by the ground beneath the church suddenly rumbling, the wooden floors shaking from the unnatural force. Bits of wood from the roof began to crumble down as well and a victorious smirk pulled at his mouth as he jeered at the youngest Winchester while the floor began to crack from the pressure, a bold line cutting into the spray painted devil's trap. Finally, his army had arrived.

"Did you really think you could kidnap the King of Hell and nobody would notice, dumb nuts?!"

The front doors were thrown open and a woman's voice filled the room.

"Hello, boys."

"That's _my_ line," Crowley muttered. He tried to turn his head as best as he could with the chair and the iron collar. The voice sounded familiar, one he hadn't heard in a very long time. Decades by human standard.

"Abaddon?" he guessed. "They told me you were dead?"

"So not."

He turned forward to look at the hunter, smirking. "And the rest of the cavalry?"

"Oh, no, it's just little, old, unkillable me," she answered breezily.

Sam turned to grab something from his made-up work station in attempt to defend himself. He started to bring up a hand gun but Abadon's demonic powers sent him into the nearest wall, causing him to misfire the weapon.

"Brilliant," commented the King. "Why send in a few grunts when you can send in a Knight? Say your prayers, Moose."

He was still on all fours when he was thrown out of the church, his body shattering a large stain glass window in the process. Just like that, he was out of the picture and his gun was left behind. Perfect.

"That'll do," he commanded. He held up the inscribed cuffs for her to see the additional cause of his imprisonment. "Undo these. I'll kill him myself."

He could hear her footsteps approach him slowly, taking her time as she placed herself in front of him. With the devil's trap broken she was standing a mere step away from him. She didn't move to free him, holding her position.

Her voice was dangerously mild. "That was an order, was it?"

There was an unsettling air of rebellion as the two stared at one another. Lucifer's Knight of Hell and the current King.

"I am your King," he reminded her. His voice was steady but he understood that he was at a severe disadvantage in his current predicament. Even with the trap disrupted, he was still powerless due to his physical chains. No matter his title, she held the higher ground in that moment and that…was very dangerous for him.

"About that…"

Her fist met his face in a perfect cross, snapping his head to the side with the force.

"Do you know what I find the most shocking about time-traveling through a closet 50 years into the future?"

Not allowing him to try and answer her rhetorical question, she landed a few more hits in quick succession. She threw more strength into her last hit, sending him toppling to the ground, still uselessly strapped to the chair.

"Somebody thought it was a good idea to make _you_ the King of Hell."

Crowley tried to regain his bearings, stars still spotting his vision as fresh blood made its way down his face. There was the shine of polished metal and he could see Sam's fallen gun a short distance away from him. Just a few inches above his head. It was his only chance with his powers sealed away.

"You know what that boy's trying to do, right?" he croaked through a mouthful of blood, carefully moving his hand upward. His words needed to distract her. "He's trying to shut the Gates of Hell."

Abaddon stepped around to his side and gave a flick of her wrist, forcing the gun well out of his reach. He flinched at the movement, cursing mentally. His only plan was paper thin and now his only hope of a weapon was gone.

She slowly lowered herself to the balls of her feet, still leaning over him. He could clearly see the stitches around her neck which stated that she had been decapitated and reunited with her body. There was the entry wound of a gunshot on the underside of her jaw. How many ways death attempts had she survived? All of that and she still wasn't dead?

Her soft voice was laced with venom as she glared down at him.

"Right now, you and I are gonna talk about a regime change."

He gave a sneer of his own. Knight or not, he was still the rightful ruler of Hell. Just because she appeared out of nowhere, it didn't give her the right to question him. He earned his position. He was the rightful ruler. "You little _whore_. I am your Ki—!"

Her boot made swift contact with the center of his face and for a split second his world went black.

When he's senses dully returned, he looked up and saw Sam Winchester and Abaddon. She seemed to be drenched in some substance and even with his fuzzy thoughts he could guess that it was oil, especially when Sam struck a set of matches.

"Love the suit."

With the flick of his wrist, her vessel was immediately engulfed in heavy fire. The sound of her screaming was music to his ears, her body quickly crumbling and she had to smoke out in an angry shriek, the thick coiling cloud breaking free and escaping through the broken stain glass window.

Served her right, the ego tripping bitch of Hell, he couldn't but think. At least that was one problem down…

Head lolling forward with a groan, the bedraggled King was returned to an upright position, the legs of the chair hitting the ground loudly as Sam corrected him.

"You did good back there, Moose," he mumbled, his nose stopped up with thickening blood. "I'll deny it if you ever quote me, but I'm proud, man. I'm proud of you."

The hunter gave a strangely amused breath of a laugh, bending down to pick up the abandoned can of spray paint, giving it a shake. "Heh. Thanks."

He was confused when he was moving around the edge of the devil's trap. "Hold on. Uh, wh-what's that?"

"It's what it looks like."

The can hissed as he mended the edge of the circle, resealing the demon within the trap.

"Are you joking? I just saved your life," he croaked. This time Sam laughed in disbelief,

"Seriously?"

"Seriously? Me, seriously?" Sam tossed the now empty can to the side, making his way back to the front as Crowley continued,

"We just shared a foxhole, you and I. We beat back the Tet Offensive, outrun the—the Rape of Nanking together! And still you're gonna do me like this?!"

Ignoring his rushed words, his strained voice, the hunter walked right up to him and stuck the syringe in his neck once more.

"Aah!" he coughed, the human blood dredging his system again. He looked back up at Sam, the words still falling out of his mouth nonstop.

" _Band of Brothers_? _The Pacific_?" Sam only stared. "None of this mean anything to you? All those motels, you never once watched HBO, not once? _Girls_?"

Sam slowly turned around to look at him, his expression unreadable but the demon couldn't keep himself from talking. He words had to get out somehow whether he wanted them to or not. He couldn't even really hear himself as he rambled, a surge of feeling welling up inside of him. There was a sense of urgency, something important that he had to say. It was an unseen weight that threaten to crush him from within.

Red hair, blazing blue eyes, and a smile that…that made him _feel_ …

"She's my Marnie, Moose. A-and—she just—she _needs_ to be loved. She _deserves_ it. Don't we all?" His voice was starting to grow louder with his convictions.

"You, me—we deserve to be loved. I _deserve_ to be loved! I just want to be _loved_ …"

Then why did it feel like he was drowning in agony?

Sam's voice was barely a mutter. "What?"

"What?" Crowley heard himself answer. His brow furrowed, confused by his own actions. Did all of that just come from him?

"Rosette."

Crowley looked up quickly at the name, a muscle twinging in his neck. Sam pushed himself fully upright from the altar to face him. He was looking terrible. His face was ashy, his cheekbones standing out sharp, green eyes rimmed red, and sweat dampening his hair and making it lank. The boy looked like death warmed over.

"You were talking about Rose…weren't you?" he asked slowly.

The demon went to open his mouth but now, no words came. He couldn't bring himself to say her name, his tongue feeling like lead while his insides churned.

Sam's mouth formed a firm line as he stepped toward him.

"You know what? I'm done. I'm done waiting for something to happen or—or for you to come clean," he told him. "So I'm just going to ask. Flat out. Where is Rose?"

"I—I—"

"Where is she, Crowley?" he demanded. "Because we've looked, prayed, and I've tried so many locator and summoning spells, my head could spin and they couldn't turn up anything. So what the hell have you done with her soul?"

"Nothing—"

" _Nothing_?" Sam scoffed, running his hand through his hair. "You're telling me, Mr. Big Bad King of Hell, that you've done _nothing_ with her soul? You, turning down a soul?"

"I have _not_ turned down her soul—"

"Then what?"

"She's _lost_ to me!"

Silence.

Sam's lips barely moved. "She's—what?"

"Lost," Crowley managed, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "I can't—I can't find her. I've been looking—trust me, I've been looking from day one. Her—her contract was stolen from me. Changed. When the sigils were removed and the hound came, her soul was brought to someone else…"

"Let me get this straight…" he took a shaky breath. "You've _lost_ Rose? She's just gone? No idea where she's at? At all?"

"I've been tearing Hell apart—"

"No, no. No, you haven't," interrupted Sam. "You've been up here trying to cut deals with—with Leviathans, kidnapping Prophets, and killing so many innocent people. Good people. Just so you could get your hands on the tablets."

Crowley made to open his mouth but Sam wouldn't let him get a word in. He wasn't finished with him yet.

"And I saw you that night, Crowley. I _saw_ you leave her there in the woods. She had been killed and you just _left_ her there, like she was _nothing_."

The King's chest felt tight as the hunter properly laid into him, calling out his actions and how he failed to step up. Burning bile threatened to rise as he listened. Sam was right. He hadn't done enough. The sheer emotion and conviction in his voice drove the words in deeper, grinding into the gaping emotional wound.

"Did it ever cross your mind as to what happened after?" Sam asked, his eyes beginning to shine and his voice shook. "I carried her poor, bloodied body back to the car. Held her in my arms as we drove back to Bobby's. I—I wrapped her body and set the funeral pyre, because she deserved _respect_. Not to be abandoned in the dark. She wasn't just some deal to collect on, she _meant_ something to us. And for a split second, I thought she meant something to you too."

His restraint snapped at the accusation.

"She meant _everything_ to me!" he snarled at the hunter, pulling against his restraints, the collar digging into his neck. "She _still_ means everything. I just—I just need to find her. I need to—I need to tell her…"

"Tell her what?" Sam cautiously asked, his brow furrowing.

"That I…as much as something I can, I…I…"

The words caught in his throat and he couldn't quite bring himself to say the rest. It didn't feel right to tell anyone but her, despite the outburst he confessed to Sam earlier. This…this was too close to him…

He loved her. As much as a monster like him could, he _loved_ her.

There wasn't any way to blame the third trial, the human blood for his thoughts. She had always held a special place in his heart, if he truly had one. Of course, he didn't deserve her. It was selfish of him actually, wanting someone like Rosette for himself. With all of her passion, kindness, and love, she was his opposite in every way imaginable. She would be better off with anyone else. Literally anyone. He was a demon, the King of Hell, the very one who put the claim on her soul. It didn't make any sense. As much as he wanted her soul's power to be added to his own, he wanted _her_ more. Her personality, her smile, all of the humanity that made her the way she was, _that_ was what he wanted.

Rosette, who loved so fiercely that she sacrificed everything she could to him so to save her little sister's life. Rosette, who was thoughtful enough to call on the demon she sold her soul away to in order to offer him a cup of tea and to say thank you. _Thank you_. She wanted to _thank_ him for damning her to Hell for eternity in exchange for her sister's newfound lease on life. She was doomed to forever in the pit for a mere ten years with Grace. A decade wasn't even a drop in the bucket in the long run. She herself was nothing in the grand scheme, between demons and angels, beings who were forever, she was no more than dust.

So why did he ache for her? Why was every fiber of his being screaming for him to find her? The longer he sat in the run down chapel, the more he wanted to throw everything away and focus solely on finding her. How long had it been? Years by human standards. Centuries by Hell's.

 _Centuries._

God, why hadn't he found her? He was deterred by the events on Earth. The Leviathans, running his kingdom, trying to keep the Gates of Hell open. There always seemed to be another problem he had to solve. The search for Rosette had to be put on hold while he tried to keep his realm together. Her priority was placed on the back burner.

He made her a promise and she believed in him. That is, until the Hellhound came for her and killed her without hesitation.

He didn't save her. She put her faith in him and he failed her.

Slowly, Crowley looked up to see Sam back at the altar and he was checking his watch. When had he moved? His thoughts were becoming muddled and his eyes felt damp for some reason. Why?

Clearing his throat, he chose his next words carefully. His throat felt tight again but he forced himself to speak regardless.

"Would it be possible, Moose…I'd like…to ask you a—a favor, Sam," he asked slowly, deliberately. Sam was in the process of preparing the next syringe. He didn't say anything as he slowly pushed himself to his feet so he continued,

"Earlier, when you were confessing back there…what did you say?" Sam gave him a long look, not answering. "I only ask because, given my history…it raises the question…where…do I start…to even look…for forgiveness? I mean…"

Sam Winchester finally answered, holding the human blood up for him to see.

"How about we start with this?"

Quietly, Crowley tiled his head to the side and exposed his neck willingly. This time, the needle didn't seem to hurt as badly. He couldn't even feel the blood entering his body now.

"Rosette…" he murmured, his voice scarcely a breath, "…Rosette…"

Maybe now…there was a chance he could meet her again, wherever she was…

Sam was reading from some aged book but the demon barely heard him.

" _Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, hanc animam redintegra, lustra_."

The youngster Winchester cut his hand and his body began to glow with a golden light, shining through the skin on his arm, illuminating particularly brightly from the cut like a heavenly candle. Slowly, he stepped closer to the chained demon and Crowley made no move to try and get away. It would be pointless. He accepted his fate.

Suddenly there was a slam of a door and Dean's voice shouted out.

"Sammy, stop!"

Startled, Sam did as his brother asked. Crowley could barely hear what they were saying with Sam so lose to him. All of the heavenly energy was ringing in his ears.

"Easy there, okay? Just take it easy…we've had a slight change of plan."

"What?! Where's Cas?!"

"Metatron lied. You finish this trial, you're dead, Sam."

There was the smallest pause before Sam answered,

"So? Look at him. Look at him! Look how close we are! Other people will die if I don't finish this!"

He was right, Crowley tiredly agreed. His eyelids felt so heavy that he finally let them close, the brother's conversation becoming muted to him. When Sam completed the trial that would be it. In a way, he hoped that when the holy light struck him that it put him out of his misery.

Mercifully, his mind managed to conjure up the image of the girl. He could picture her before him, her hands gently cradling his bloodied face as she leaned in close to him. How he wished he could hear her say his name or that he could call for her and that she would hear him.

 _Rosette..._

The ache and the want was unbearable and he took one more look out the broken window as heavenly lights fell from the night's sky.

* * *

 **REVIEW! Your thoughts are love!**

 **Song suggestion that fits this chapter** **:** _ **She Used To Be Mine covered by Caleb Hyles**_ **. YouTube him, the man's a real talent.**

 **So here we are! Sorry for the delay! When I uploaded the last chapter it was days before starting my new job which changed my regular hours, and we've been house hunting/we're closing on a house next Friday! I had to get this done before all the madness really began lol**

 **My other theory was to use the long wait to simulate the time difference for this chapter, but no way, I'm not that patient lol**

 **Tada! A whole Crowley chapter! To give some insight on what the time difference has been like for him, the human blood dragging up memories he tried to steer clear of.**

 **I can't ramble as much anymore to avoid spoiling things, but I hope you all enjoyed and I'd love to hear your thoughts! I can't wait to start the chapter guys, I really can't, things are going to start rolling.**

 **Thank you and enjoy!**


	20. Chapter 20

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Twenty**

* * *

The sky was thick with rolling grey clouds, rain falling in sheets down on the small town of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Lightning flashed in a strange succession particularly around Singer's Salvage Yard, a property that had been abandoned for years and the owner's home was blackened and decaying from the damage and neglect.

Between the stacks of rusting cars a prone figure could scarcely be seen, so small in comparison they were easily overshadowed. The heavy clouds began to cyclone above, the air becoming thick with electricity. The charge continued to build until everything went perfectly still, even the raindrops stilled in midair.

A giant column of lightning carved its way through the sky and struck the figure squarely. The air was alight with the unbelievable energy as the body was lifted from the ground due to the sheer force. Time seem to stand still as the lightning vanished altogether and the person dropped to the ground again. The storm returned to normal, rain falling once more.

There was a sharp gasp and blue eyes opened.

Her chest heaved as she tried to take in as much air as she could, her lungs inflating to capacity. Sensations came flooding back in a crash of awareness. The uncomfortable gravel beneath her, grinding into her back. The smell of rust and metal mixing with the rainfall, the cold water splashing against her skin. Ragged coughing tore through her and she managed to roll over onto her side, her breath rattling in her chest. Her throat felt like sand and her lips were equally dry as she struggled to push herself onto all fours. Pins and needles tingled throughout her arms and legs so she couldn't help but shake as she managed to get to her feet, leaning heavily against the junky car beside her.

With the storm coming down so hard it made it too difficult to see far away and for her to try to understand her surroundings. Bringing up her arm to stave off some of the rain from her eyes and squinting, she could make out the shape of a building and some sort of sign. Legs trembling, she began to gingerly move around the abandoned cars. It took a fair handful of slow moving steps for the large heavily-aged sign to come into focus so that she could read it through the pouring rain to try find out where she was exactly.

Singer's Salvage Yard.

Her eyes widened as her breath caught in her throat at the reveal. Turning her head toward the quickly flooding path, she took off in a shaky run, hurrying toward the house. Her feet splashed through the deepening puddles of dirtying water, soaking through her shoes but she didn't even notice.

"Bobby!" she couldn't help but croak out, her voice hoarse and cracking from the lack of use. Excitement dared to flicker within her as she got closer. Her lips tugged into an almost smile, the expression so forgotten to her. Oh thank God, Bobby would know—

The first step on the porch creaked so terribly that she brought herself to a complete stop. Her jaw fell open when the house's condition was made clear under the subpar coverage of the porch's splintered roof. Black was scorched throughout its entirety, chunks missing, windows broken, and the front door was completely gone, a gaping maw into the interior's darkness.

"Bobby…?"

Ignoring her shaking, she continued forward and took care of where she placed her feet. Nausea and fear churned uneasily within her stomach as she dared to step past the doorway. The house was a wasted shell of its former glory. The rain from the ongoing storm was effortlessly coming through the ruined roof, most of the wood either ruined through fire, warped by water or both.

Her feet led her to the room that was once the study, almost as if she was on autopilot. She could only gape at the remains of the once common space. A smoldering lump that was once the hunter's desk. The ruined couch where she spent countless nights researching monster lore. Hundreds of books…gone. Ruined by the fire and unsalvageable due to the water and time passed.

What…what happened…? Where was…?

"B-Bobby…?"

Her voice sounded impossibly small in the burned down home.

Sorrow didn't even have the chance to settle on her heart as a fear quickly took over, drowning out her other struggling emotions with fervor.

A small sound registered at the very edge of her awareness, a blip in her peripheral so to speak. In fact, it should've been impossible to hear it with the rain coming down so hard and her own flood of confusing thoughts tearing through her mind along with her hammering heart and yet…it was _there_.

The very decibel made her heart want to burst from her chest in unadulterated fear.

It called her hair to stand on absolute end and she whirled around to try and pinpoint the source. A small part of her wanted to blame her bubbling hysterics on the sound, claim it as imaginary, but the much larger part screamed that it was real and she needed to run away _right friggin' now_.

She was out of the house and back in the deluge in seconds, slipping through the growing mud and loose gravel as she ran through the salvage yard. Her matted and tangled hair whipped as she started checking the cars, trying to find one that was functional enough. She needed to move and running wasn't going to cut it, she knew that first hand. Her stomach ached at the memory.

… _The heavy paw came down hard on her shoulder, sending her spiraling to the ground. Dirt flew as she crashed onto the forest floor and she tried to scramble back to her feet but the hound was faster. Its weight was crushing as it pinned her down, its nails already sinking into her midsection…_

An idea struck her like a thunderbolt.

Bobby's car.

Skidding to turn sharply to the left and sprinting back toward the house, her mind shifted in overdrive. That was the one she could remember him always driving. The 1971 Chevrolet Chevelle. That had to work, right? It was probably the best kept car in the yard. She was going with a hope and a prayer coupled with a whole lot of desperation and equal parts stupidity. Her heart was hammering so hard it hurt as she scanned the old rusted vehicles through the rain. _What on earth was happening?_

Her thoughts were interrupted when she was clipped by the trunk of one car that was just a little out of line nearly sending her completely off balance and to the ground. Clutching her leg with a curse, all pain was promptly forgotten when she realized the car that she ran into was, in fact, the very one she was looking for. The Chevelle.

The door screeched as she threw it open, dropping into the driver's seat and she immediately began searching for the keys.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!" she muttered to herself, hands scrabbling over all available surfaces. The keys had to be there. They had to be. If not, then she'd be as good as—

A jingle sounded and the keys fell from the sun visor and onto her lap.

"Yes!" Doing her best to ignore the sound of the howls coming closer, she jammed the key into the starter and turned.

The Chevelle groaned terribly and then quieted.

"No, no, no, no!" she pleaded, turning the key again. It creaked and died again. "Oh c'mon baby, please, please, please! I just need you to work for a little bit, _please!_ " Oh God, she didn't want to die _again_ -!

On the next try, it roared to life like nothing was ever wrong.

Not looking her gift horse in the mouth, she threw the car into gear and peeled out of the salvage yard, back wheels daring to fishtail.

The downpour of rain made it easy to wash the layers of dust away just enough for her to make out the road. Her hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly as she tried to control her erratic breathing. A whimper escaped her and she clenched her teeth together, trying to fight the ever swelling fear within her.

What was happening? Why was she back? Why wasn't she—?

 _It was impossibly cold. Though there was space, the metal walls seemed closer than before, daring to smother her. The metal floor was so cold that it burned her skin, frost coating her exposed flesh as she pushed herself onto all fours. Her heart jumped to her throat when she heard a laugh and she whirled around to see a figure before her bathed in beautiful white light._

 _She had never felt such indescribable terror before—_

She gasped as she was pulled from her thoughts as the Chevelle's passenger side wheels dropped from the road into the gravel. Forcing the car back onto the road she had to concentrate in order to take a deep breath.

 _Breathe. Just breathe_ , she told herself firmly. The sounds of the Hellhound were fading fast as she pressed the gas pedal closer to the ground, the car rattling with the increased speed. She would be fine, she would be fine—

Another strangled cry escaped her and tears burned her eyes, daring to blur her vision. Everything was just so confusing! What was happening? _Why_ was it happening? What happened to Bobby's house? Where was Bobby? Sam? Dean? How could she get ahold of them? Normally, Bobby's house was the hub, so what had happened? Were the boys even still alive?

Her heart seized at the thought.

No. They couldn't be dead. That was impossible. They were Sam and Dean. The brothers who stopped the Apocalypse. They had to be fine. Had to be. But then the question remained, where were they? The boys drove all across the country for their cases. They could be anywhere, quite literally. Where would she even start?

She could try calling one of their phone numbers, that is, if they were still using the same ones as before. Even if that were the case, she couldn't remember their various phone numbers, there were just so many. Her head was pounding abominably and the more she tried to remember, the more out of focus her thoughts seemed to become.

Shaking her head, she had to concentrate on the here and now. Get away from the Hellhound. Find the boys. In the meantime, maybe find some sort of shelter? Food? God, she couldn't even think of eating with her stomach still churning. Could she even afford to stop?

Her knuckles shone white as she kept her death grip on the steering wheel. The car pulled to the left and gave an occasional lurch so she made certain that she held tight. The headlights sputtered at random intervals, sometimes leaving the backroads in darkness for moments at a time, and the windshield wipers weren't working which was a very serious handicap in the current weather.

When she felt her eyes begin to burn again, she gave a shake of her head and glanced down only to see that the clock wasn't working, the screen blank. It was still dark outside, rain coming down a bit lighter than before. Had much time passed? Minutes? Hours? Thankfully no one else seemed to be on the road. Wow, she nor the car were really in any shape to drive—

" _YOU'VE BEEN—THUNDERSTRUCK!_ "

A sharp scream of surprise escaped her and she couldn't slam on the brakes fast enough. The tires squealed, locking up, and the back end fishtailed before coming to a stop partially off the edge of the road. She lurched forward and nearly bashed her forehead against the steering wheel. Breathing hard, she threw the car into park and scrabbled to turn the volume off of the suddenly blaring radio. When the knob turned out to be missing she went ahead and shut the car off entirely.

Her ragged breathing seemed unnaturally loud in the now-silent car. Hands shaking, she forced herself to grip the steering wheel to try and stop the trembling. The shaking traveled up her arms and she felt her whole body shuddering, even her teeth chattered. She had to squeeze her eyes shut to fight the burning sensation that was building.

What was _wrong_ with her?! What the hell was happening? Where was she? Where was everyone else? How come her head wouldn't stop hurting? Why were her thoughts so clouded and confused?

A howl sounded faintly in the distance and her eyes flew open in response. Had the hound caught up already?

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" she muttered, quickly reaching for the keys. She turned the key and the engine barely managed to groan. "Oh please, no, no, no, no, no…!"

The Chevelle seemed to wheeze on the next attempt, but it was when she tried for a third time that there was nothing. Her entire body seemed to vibrate with sheer terror as she fruitlessly turned the key. The car was done. Her only mode of transportation had croaked, leaving her stranded out in the middle of God-knows-where.

She couldn't just sit in the car and wait for the Hellhound to catch up to her. No matter how badly her legs shook, she couldn't sit and wait. It was better to try than surrender, she told herself. The rusty door creaked as she shouldered it open and she used it to pull herself to her feet. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dark but then she could see that the road was cutting through a densely forested area. Perfect, more coverage.

The next howl was closer, making her hair stand on end. The car was left behind with the door open and she took off into the woods without a second thought.

Low hanging branches scratched at her arms and face as she ran while plenty of them snagged at her hair, tearing red strands free as she refused to slow down.

… _The night air became filled with the sound of vicious snarling and Rose couldn't help but dare to look over her shoulder. Her eyes widened and a small scream escaped her when she saw the sheer size of the Hellhound. Red eyes glowed like fiery coals in the night, fixated on her as it closed the distance between them. Large sharp teeth gleamed as it snapped its jaw, drawing closer with each stride..._

She couldn't tell if she was crying but her vision kept blurring as she refused to glance back. No, she wouldn't look back. She had to run faster, harder this time. Maybe this time…this time she could get away?

… _Pain exploded within her mind and body as the hound began to dig into her body. It raked its giant paw across her torso and her skin split apart like paper, blood rushing from the wounds as it dug with a fervor, as if it could dig out her soul from her body. She cried out, screaming in pain as it slashed at her body, her muscles tearing like they were nothing…_

Her breath caught in her throat as the familiar feeling of pure fear crashed into her once more. It was a foolish thought. Of course the hound was going to catch her again…it was going to kill her _again_ …

… _Her throat was raw from screaming out and her world was becoming quiet. She could dimly see the hound snapping its jaws at her but she couldn't hear it anymore. Her arms had fallen to her sides, unable to keep trying to push it off. Everything was becoming numb, even the pain. The hound continued to bury it claws and teeth into her and she could only lie there, unflinching…_

The urge to scream was rising up in her throat like bile but she couldn't bring herself to cry out, not with her lungs burning as she ran as fast as she possibly could. Besides, who would she call for? There was no one to save her. The one person who could've saved her before…didn't. It didn't matter how much she screamed, cried, and begged for him—

The ground suddenly fell away.

One moment she was airborne and the next, she was crashing into the ground, hard. The terrain had sharply changed due to a dangerously steep incline and her body was currently barreling downward. Mud was flying and she had to squeeze her eyes shut as she tried to bring her arms up to cover her head. She couldn't even catch her breath as her body continued to tumble, somersaulting head over heels.

The terrain changed and her head struck pavement with resounding force. Now that the ground had flattened out, her body managed to roll to a stop, finally losing the previous momentum. Gasping, bruised, and head aching horrifically, the girl barely managed to lift her herself up onto her elbows just in time to be blinded by headlights.

* * *

The drive back to the bunker was thick with tension. The brothers had barely spoken throughout the trip, which was always a bad sign in the youngest brother's opinion. Sam's body still felt like it had been put through the heavenly wringer. His body, hell, his atoms felt like they were being barely held together by threads. Everything hurt so badly that he scarcely remembered what happened after seeing the angels fall from heaven. Lights falling like stars, breaking through the clouds and crashing…

Next thing he knew he was waking up in the passenger seat of the Impala and Dean was driving. Castiel wasn't answering their prayers and they didn't know the entirety of what happened. According to Dean, Cas had left during the third trial in order to help Metatron complete a set of trials that would close off heaven, keeping the angels _away_ from Earth. Then Dean returned to the chapel just seconds before he finished the last trial to close Hell. When he decided not to go through with the trial that was when the real pain kicked in. He thought he was hurting before but what came next was pure agony in comparison. It was as if his insides were being burned out by holy fire and he felt…no, he knew he was going to die even before Dean told him…

" _Metatron lied. You finish this trial, you're dead, Sam."_

 _There was the smallest pause before Sam answered,_

" _So?"_

He had wished for it, honestly.

Sam gave a little shake of his head. Now wasn't the time for those kinds of thoughts. Especially since he was feeling better. Well, not completely, one hundred percent healed, but marginally than he was before and frankly, that was good enough for the moment. He could work on recuperating later, right now they needed to work on coming up with a plan of some sort. Well, actually they should focus on finding Castiel first. They would need all the allies they could get their hands on.

They took a sharp turn and there was a dull sound of weight shifting in the trunk. Neither brother flinched but Sam did furrow his brow in thought. Currently, the King of Hell was stowed away in the Impala's trunk space. To his surprise, the demon was alive. He thought Dean would've killed him after the incomplete trial. The King of Hell wasn't in any shape to fight back or at all for that matter. When he last faced him, he was undergoing eight hours and doses of human blood. It was at the end where he could see the effect the transfusions were having on the normally snarky and quick-witted demon.

Gone were the jabs and varied insulting nicknames. His normal arrogance and haughty demeanor were replaced with an uncharacteristic vulnerability and desperation.

" _Would it be possible, Moose…I'd like…to ask you a—a favor, Sam," he asked slowly, deliberately. "Earlier, when you were confessing back there…what did you say? I only ask because, given my history…it raises the question…where…do I start…to even look…for forgiveness? I mean…"_

Forgiveness? Crowley was looking for _forgiveness_? The concept was ludicrous, and yet, a testament to the strength of human blood if he honestly was remorseful. As much as he wanted to laugh at the thought, Sam couldn't dismiss it entirely. The way that the demon seemed to confess. The words wouldn't stop and he didn't seem to be aware of what he was saying or that he was saying it at all. The only time his focus seemed to snap back was when he confronted him about Rose.

" _Did it ever cross your mind as to what happened after?" Sam asked, his eyes beginning to shine and his voice shook. "I carried her poor, bloodied body back to the car. Held her in my arms as we drove back to Bobby's. I—I wrapped her body and set the funeral pyre, because she deserved respect. Not to be abandoned in the dark. She wasn't just some deal to collect on, she meant something to us. And for a split second, I thought she meant something to you too—"_

" _She meant_ _ **everything**_ _to me!" Crowley snarled at the hunter, pulling against his restraints, the collar digging into his neck. "She_ _ **still**_ _means everything. I just—I just need to find her. I need to—I need to tell her…"_

" _Tell her what?" Sam cautiously asked, his brow furrowing._

" _That I…as much as something I can, I…I…"_

If he didn't know better, he would've said that it sounded like Crowley was trying to admit that he… _loved_ Rose.

But demons didn't love, least of all the King of Hell himself.

The rain continued to come down, flickering in the headlights as they drove down the empty road. It hadn't stopped raining ever since the angels fell. Whether or not that was a sign of what was to come or simply a coincidence, he couldn't decide which was more likely, but with their luck it was most likely the former. He let loose a quiet sigh. Exhaustion was weighing heavily on his body and he could feel his eyelids daring to close again. How was he tired again? He did nothing but sleep for most of the drive. Even though he was feeling better, he guess it wasn't enough because his body was trying to shut down again.

Before he could finish debating about nodding off again, there was a sudden shadow of movement at the far end of the headlight's range. His shout barely registered as he warned his brother.

"Dean!"

He was already stomping his foot on the brake and the Impala managed to come to a screeching stop, followed by a loud sound from the demon's body rolling in the trunk. They shared a quick look before opening their doors and getting out of the car, each with a hand reaching for their gun.

Carefully, they moved toward the front of the vehicle where they could see the figure moving slightly. There was a barely perceptible groan before the person dropped completely to the ground.

"Hey, you all right?" called Dean. There was no answer and Sam gave a nod as he dared to kneel down next to the person. With the car's headlight's still on it was almost too bright to see and Sam was squinting as he moved the stranger onto their back. They could tell it was a woman from the figure and long hair, but there was something else…

Quickly storing his gun, Sam brought his arm up to shield his eyes from the light so their features weren't so washed out.

"Oh my God…"

"Sammy, what is it?" asked Dean, taking another look at their surroundings to make sure they weren't being ambushed.

His heart was pounding so hard within his chest that he didn't hear the question.

"Oh my God. Dean, it's—it's _Rose_."

His brother looked at him incredulously. "What? No it's not."

The longer he looked down at the girl the more it became clear that it was the same girl they lost years ago. Before the Hell trials, Purgatory, and Leviathans. Back when the Apocalypse was the biggest thing they ever defeated. The unfortunate time where he was topside without a soul. A time where Bobby was alive. Back in the day when he had a _friend_.

Blood was rushing in his ears as he was barraged with a wave of emotions.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before focusing on the task at hand. This wasn't the time to fall down memory lane, he told himself again. Taking a breath, he forced himself to pay attention to every detail. He had to be absolutely positive to prove it wasn't just his mind playing some twisted joke.

Gingerly, he reached down and tilted her face toward him. The hair was the right shade of red, he noticed first. A low pained moan escaped her and her eyes fluttered open for just a moment before closing again before he could try to see their color. Past the dirt and scrapes, he could see the same pattern of freckles that scattered across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Looking further down, his throat grew tight when he saw that she was wearing the same dark green flannel she was wearing the night she died. The one she was wearing when he wrapped her body for her funeral…

"Sam?"

He gave a cough to clear his throat, blinking back the burning sensation that dared to build up.

"It's her, Dean," he confirmed. "I don't know how, but—but it's her…"

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered, storing his gun as well. Sam moved to pick her up but his arms started to shake before he could even secure his grip. His body was still recovering from the trials, he understood that, but he couldn't help the frustration directed at himself. He should be able to do this simple thing, he's done it before—

"Don't worry. I got her, Sammy," his brother promised. Dean scooped her up easily, her body slack in his arms. Sam's stomach clenched painfully at the sight. This time there was no gore but the imagery still hit far too close to home. He didn't think he would ever forget the feeling when he first found her in the woods that night. She was so… _small_ in the darkness and the brutality looked unreal on her body. It was just like with Dean all those years ago and he felt like his own heart had, once again, been ripped from his chest—

"Sam, c'mon, we've gotta go."

He pushed himself to his feet and hurried to open the back door. The two carefully moved the unconscious girl so that she was lying across the backseat. They returned to their seats in the front and put the car into gear, taking off down the road again toward the Men of Letters bunker.

* * *

It certainly wasn't the most uncomfortable place he's found himself in, but Crowley ranked it high on the list of places he would not like to visit again. The trunk of the Winchester's blasted Impala was a poor place to be especially when the vehicle was in motion. Dean was either a horrendous driver or simply being an arse on purpose. Sharp turns that forced his body to shift freely into the walls of the trunk, making the top of his head tender in short order. He was still banged up from the trial showdown back at the old chapel. His borrowed body still ached terribly, his powers were still nullified by the handcuffs the hunters somehow got their paws on. Blood was caked on his face from the kick he took from Abaddon's boot, the power grubbing trollop—

There was no warning when the car screeched to a halt, the brakes seizing up beneath him and he was forced face-first into the back wall of the trunk.

"Bollocks!" he cursed when he was able to move onto his back again. He brought his cuffed hands up and beat on the closed lid above him. He knew it was useless. The cuffs paired with the devil's trap painted on the trunk made him no more than his meat suit. Human.

 _Human_ …

His stomach flipped in disgust at the severity of his situation. He was trapped in the car of none other than the Winchesters with none of his powers at his disposal. No healing, no teleporting, and no calling for his legions of demons to assist him. His last call resulted in Abaddon crashing the scene and making her objective of usurping his throne clear. Because that was what he needed on top of everything else, a power hungry Knight of Hell with her traditionalist viewpoint gunning for his position.

He closed his eyes as he felt frustration surge up within him. His control was still lax on his emotional state after being in the chapel. In the short window of time afterward he should've been able to regain his iron clad grip and squash any remnants of emotion by then. Instead, he found himself still feeling suffocated by the random waves of _feelings_. The claustrophobic nature of the trunk did him no favors. His chest felt tight, like he couldn't quite catch his breath.

The Impala doors opened again, the distinct creaking sound clearly traveling down to the demon. There was movement and the transference of some kind of weight in the back seat. What had happened? The stop was sudden but there wasn't any sound of impact to suggest that the dynamic duo had hit something.

The engine revved to life again and the car took off quickly, once again tossing him to the opposite side of the available space with a muttered curse. Growling, he rolled onto his back again and glared up at the devil's trap. He forced himself to close his eyes and focus on collecting his thoughts. Before, to calm down and think clearly, he would teleport away from his source of stress to visit his favorite contract. Even if he couldn't get away sometimes all he would have to do was reach out mentally. It didn't take more than a thought for him to pinpoint her soul. She was unusually bright to him and always easy for him to find. He didn't understand why but he never questioned it either. It simply was the way things were between them.

He hadn't reached out in quite some time. Ever since her death—ever since she was taken from him, he mentally corrected, he hadn't been able to sense her at all. Whenever he tried there was nothing. It was like he was calling out into the void and there was never any hope of an answer.

Crowley took a deep breath and closed his eyes. With the racket his emotions and body were causing him, he decided to let his mind try to fall back on his old habits of searching for the girl. Due to all of the demonic suppressions he was currently under, it wouldn't do much good but it was better to try to focus on one thing and ruthlessly suppress everything else. Even if it was a hopeless endeavor.

He couldn't even tell if his senses were completely scrambled or if there really was the flicker of the once familiar warmth at the edge of his awareness. His chest ached in response, reminding him of just how hollow he was inside. Everything was in such a state and now even his own mind was playing tricks on him.

* * *

 **REVIEW! I'm so sorry for the delay guys, we moved to our new house at the end of February into a new neighborhood and they** _ **still**_ **have yet to run internet/cable through our area, so I'm sorry for the lack of updating and that it's a little shorter than usual.**

 **Anyway! The story continues! I hope to hear your thoughts as I love them so much and I'm so excited to start working on the next chapter! Poor Rose can't seem to catch a break huh? Crowley and Rose are so close and yet so far from each other, but they'll get their chance soon! (Like next chapter soon if my cards play out!) More stuff to come next chapter!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed and I can't wait to hear your thoughts!**


	21. Chapter 21

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Twenty-One**

* * *

… _The darkness was all encompassing. She could feel it weighing on her like a physical force. It was filled her nose and mouth, packed deep in her throat. She couldn't breathe, it was impossible and yet, time continued to pass and she hadn't lost consciousness. Why? Wouldn't it stop? She couldn't breathe so why hadn't she fainted at the very least?_

 _Cold fingers threaded through her hair and she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to cry out._

" _Now, now, Rosie…"_

 _She wanted to cry, to scream, but her voice and her breath still wouldn't work. The hands traveled downward, caressing her exposed neck as she remained frozen and incapable of pulling away. The gesture was soft in nature but it sent an electrifying terror throughout her body. She could feel her muscles seizing, wanting to pull away even though she was incapable of doing so._

"… _Don't tell me you're scared of the dark?"_

 _She could feel breath brushing against her face and a whimper escaped her as she tried to lean back, to no avail. The burning cold pressed against the tender skin of her throat and she threw her head back in a silent scream begging for someone to come and save her, for C—_

Blue eyes flew open and her ears were filled with the sound of her own labored, ragged breathing. Sweat soaked her hairline and her muscles ached as she managed to roll onto her side, her stomach threatening to give up its contents. As she heaved and shuddered, she realized that she was still drowning in darkness. She couldn't see.

 _No, no, no—gotta get out, gotta get out!_

Her legs wouldn't support her at first, dropping her unevenly to her knees. Scrambling, she managed to get her feet under her again and she bolted forward. A wall stopped her next but she kept moving, her hands flat against the surface, searching for any kind of give. The top of her hand bashed against a handle and she grabbed it, ignoring the dull pain of a new bruise forming and threw the door open.

The florescent lights were blinding as she stumbled forward. Bringing an arm up to shield her eyes, she squinted and tried to figure out where she was exactly. She was in some kind of hallway, the tiles on the walls reflecting the light. Struggling to keep her eyes open, she kept her one arm up until her eyes could adjust while her other hand grabbed the wall to keep steady as she moved forward.

Where was she? All of the white and lack of decorum made her immediately think that maybe it was some kind of institution. Hospital? Mental ward?

A new doorway appeared and she hurried up the stairs. She had yet to run into any staff or personnel but how long would that last? How much time did she have to get away?

The new room was a large study, she noticed, taking a second to slow down and take in her new surroundings. The ceilings stretched high into an arch and the walls were lined with books. A library? There were large oak tables down the center of the room accompanied with chairs and lamps. A beer bottle abandoned on the end of a table caught her attention and she found herself approaching it. She picked it up gingerly, examining it. It was awfully casual for some kind of facility, she wondered. Her brow furrowed in thought as she looked over the label again. It was a familiar scene, an empty bottle in a room full of books…but everything was so fuzzy it was difficult to try and think back to where she last saw it—

"Rose?"

A sharp scream escaped her as she whirled around, holding the bottle by the neck and out in front of her defensively.

Her eyes widened and her body trembled as she studied the man that had entered the room. He was tall with brown hair that was messy from sleep, and a face so familiar she could cry—

…" _I love you—all of you, so much," Rose told him fiercely, her voice wavering. "I can't—I can't even begin to tell you how much. This—all of this, with you, the hunting and monsters, everything—this has been…the best part of my life and I can't thank you enough…!"_

 _Green eyes became bright with unshed tears as Sam stared down at her. His hands moved so to cradle her face as he shook his head fervently._

" _No, Rose, you can't—you can't—!"_

 _The hound was only growing closer. She could practically hear it running, like a train picking up speed. She needed to create space so to keep it away from Sam and the others. Biting down hard on her lip, she had to soldier through her hesitation and she had to move. Her hands lashed out and connected solidly with Sam's chest, pushing him back and away. Her voice broke as she tried to shout at him one last time._

" _Run, Sam! Please—run!"…_

The memory rammed its way to the forefront of her mind and she brought a hand up to her head at the sudden ache, gasping. He started to approach her, his expression worried.

"Rose, are you—"

"Stay back!" she managed, raising her voice. Her headache was a steady pound, ringing in her ears. It was all too confusing! She had so many questions and no answers! And why, oh _why_ did she have the sickening doubt that she couldn't believe what she was seeing? Why couldn't she believe that it was really him? It had to be Sam, right? But why couldn't she accept that—?

She let out a pained shout as macabre images burned into her vision…

… _There was blood everywhere._

 _No light. No air. Just the god-awful stench of death. She couldn't bring herself to retch anymore, her face slick with tears and blood of her own. Their bodies were piled on top of each other, their bodies and limbs hanging at strange, grotesque angles. There were so many of them, the same ones over and over and over again, piling high and filling the room. They just kept appearing and dying and she couldn't stop it—she couldn't stop it!_

" _C'mon, Rosie, isn't this fun? One by one they all fall down."_

 _Everything turned cold and she could feel it burning against her back as arms slipped around her, their body pressing against her. One hand snaked around and firmly grabbed her jaw, long fingers digging into her cheeks as he kept her gaze forward. A strangled sob escaped her as she tried uselessly to pull free but his grip only became a tighter vice, forcing her to watch the never ending rain of bodies of the people she loved, his voice a sickly sweet murmur in her ear as he named each of them as they fell._

" _There's Mommy…Daddy…Gracie…Bobby…Sammy…Dean-o…Cassie…and my_ _ **favorite**_ _,—"_

Rose squeezed her eyes shut and brought the bottle down hard on the edge of the nicely polished table. Ignoring the fallen glass, she held up her makeshift weapon defensively in front of her, much to the hunter's alarm.

"Whoa, hey—!"

"What's going on?!" she tried to shout, her voice cracking halfway through her words. "Where am I?!"

Sam held his hands up in a placating gesture, taking care not to move too quickly. "You're in the Men of Letters bunker in Lebanon, Kansas. We brought you here last night. You—you appeared out of nowhere, in the middle of the road."

"I—I was running…" she said, trying to piece together her fragmented memory.

… _The very decibel made her heart want to burst from her chest in unadulterated fear..._

"The hound…!" she gasped. "I was running from the hound!"

"A Hellhound? There wasn't any—"

"There was a hound!" she snapped at him. Tears were burning her eyes and she pressed her hand against the side of her head again. "I know what I heard!"

"Okay, okay…just…just take a breath, Rose," Sam tried to assure her. "You're safe now. There's no hound now…"

She could barely hear him as she struggled to grasp was happening around her. Frustrated tears blurred her vision as her hand shook, the broken bottle still locked in a death grip.

"That doesn't make any sense…!"

What was going on?! She knew what she heard was nothing other than a Hellhound. No other sound could spear such terror into her heart. She _knew_ that sound. But if it had been a hound, how was she still alive? It should be impossible. There were ways to deter a hound, but only temporarily. Regardless, she should be dead. So why wasn't she?

 _Or what if I'm still dead?_ A sick voice whispered from the back of her mind. Icy doubt washed over her and she could feel what color she had drain away.

 _Of course…it's all…it's all a trick…_

It would…it would make sense….It would explain why she "escaped" the Hellhound, why she was seeing Sam alive, and why she was somewhere safe…

She turned the broken bottle so that she could see the sharp gleaming edge…

 _I just…have to break the illusion…_

" _Rose!_ "

Sam's shout startled her, snapping her back into the moment and he was suddenly in front of her. He snatched the bottle from her hand, tossing it aside where it shattered into pieces. Blue eyes were wide as she looked up at him in surprise. Before she could back up, his arms were around her and he brought her into an impossibly tight hug.

"You're okay, Rose," he promised her. His arms were shaking…or was that her? "You're okay. _This_ is real. You're really back. With us."

Hot tears continued to roll down her cheeks as she could only stare at the material of his shirt with wide eyes as he held her tighter still. His hand reached up and became lost in her hair, pulling her to him.

"You're…warm…" she murmured to herself. Her arms tentatively rose and she brought them around him, hands lightly resting against his back, slowly returning the gesture.

… _There was never a reprieve from the ungodly cold. Everything bore an icy chill. His touch. The air. Even the visions she was cursed with carried no warmth. In a way, it helped her cope…_

And Sam was warm.

"You're warm…!" She threw her strength into the embrace, not caring how hard she squeezed. The tears fell with a renewed vigor and she buried her face in his shoulder "Oh my god, Sam!"

Rose didn't care that she sobbed like a child while she clung to the youngest Winchester.

* * *

Darkness didn't bother him. After spending time in Hell if you didn't accept the darkness it would drive you mad.

And accept it he did.

He made it apart of him. Infused it with his very essence, filling the void where his soul once resided. It was easy, to let all of the unfeeling blackness wash over. At first it was like drowning, but once he let it in, the rush was unlike anything he'd ever experience. All of the power that was available to him and the fact that he could have even more…well, his appetite was insatiable. There was no such thing as too much power.

" _Then…please, stop going after Purgatory."_

Crowley visibly flinched as the words echoed in his mind, seemingly louder in the pitch black room. He could still picture her that day. Her cheeks and nose pink from the cold. Dressed in jeans, plaid flannel, and an oversized jacket. Always wearing some sort of Winchester hand-me-down, he remember with a fond sort of scoff. Vibrant red hair even brighter in contrast to her fair skin and the dreary weather. He remembered slipping his fingers through her hair as he closed the space between them. Her lips were soft against his and his pulse sped up as they pressed their connection further. Just like when their contract was originally struck, there was an unprecedented heat that would flare up and engulf his very being. If he still had soul he would've felt it there as well.

 _"I just want to keep everyone safe, Crowley. That means you too."_

He shook his head, trying to dislodge the words that were said with a voice that was becoming quieter over time. It hurt too much. It was a slippery slope when he allowed his thoughts to linger on his contract and the last day he saw her. His thoughts would spiral and pull him in too deep. Normally, anger would be an easy remedy. Anger was always easy. It burned away the sorrow and allowed him to focus on the task at hand, which was finding her. Or was it putting a stop to the Winchester's latest mission?

" _I've been tearing Hell apart—"_

" _No, no. No, you haven't," interrupted Sam. "You've been up here trying to cut deals with—with Leviathans, kidnapping Prophets, and killing so many innocent people. Good people. Just so you could get your hands on the tablets."_

Sam's voice rang with righteous anger. A heartbroken rage. The words were sharp and had hooked deep into his mind, making his body heavy under their weight. The moose was right and he hated it.

 _"I don't—I don't want anything…Crowley, I've ever only wanted you."_

But he hated himself more.

Somewhere along the line he had realigned his priorities where his status and power took precedent over finding Rosette. His search for her was ever ongoing but he had to focus on other things such as Dick Roman and his empire of Leviathans, then there were the Prophets and the tablets and then the Hell Trials the trouble making brothers were trying to complete. In short, he had other things to worry about.

While it all made sense in his head, he felt his stomach churn and the acidic heat of bile rise up in his throat.

He was a demon. It should be simple to accept the loss of one human. He should've accepted the plot created by Meg since he had already punished her (killed her even) and he should move on. After all, she was only a soul he had contracted. Nothing more.

 _But Rosette was more than a soul to collect…_ His chest tightened and the tops of his cheeks felt fever warm and he shook his head with a frustrated growl to try and dislodge his thoughts.

She wasn't supposed to mean anything to him. Why couldn't she have been like any other deal? Why did she have to show him kindness? Affection? Of all the souls he had contracted, why did Castiel have to find her? Why did she have to stay with the Winchesters? Why couldn't she have been like every other human he dealt with and live out her ten years satisfied with her deal and died on time like she was meant to? How dare she make him care for her, value her, worry about her…

When had he taken her into his non-existent heart?

Before he could shout out in self-loathing hatred, there was the sound of a door opening.

His head snapped up and he had only just managed to shove his thoughts to the side. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he forced himself to relax into the chair as if the thick iron collar and the too tight handcuffs weren't aggravating his vessel. His skin was mottled with bruises, dried blood still coating half of his face where Abaddon had so kindly planted her boot, and his neck still ached where all of the needles had pierced him, their effects still working through his stolen body.

That didn't stop him from smirking as Sam and Dean Winchester opened the double doors.

"Hello, boys," he greeted in his usual manner. Appearances needed to be upheld and the look of annoyance on the two brothers' faces was well worth it.

"Can it, Crowley," grouched Dean. The demon noticed that the older brother's hair was in a mess, one side flat as if he had been asleep. Sam's state of dress was identical, his usual well tamed locks messy. His hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion. It had to be sometime in the middle of the night, or early morning depending on how you looked at it. Had something happened already?

"We have a Hell question for you," he continued.

Crowley raised an interested brow. "I believe the pair of you have had the crash course. What could you possibly need to learn from little ol' me?"

"You're the King," Sam stated, barely withholding a snarl of his own. "And our question is about the schematics of Hell."

"You gave the place a makeover since we were downstairs," added Dean, folding his arms over his chest.

"Thinking about visiting your alma mater? I suppose you wouldn't want to walk down the wrong hall if you decide to sneak onto campus, again," Crowley drawled, a twinge of annoyance at the memory of the two slipping into his kingdom unnoticed via a rabbit hole in Purgatory.

Dean rolled his eyes, clearly having less patience than usual.

"Are there any cold places in your redesign of Hell?"

The demon's brows furrowed in confusion. "It's _Hell_. Fire and brimstone. Souls burning away for all of eternity is kind of our selling point, Squirrel, regardless of what Dante wrote."

The two brother shared a look, no words exchanged.

"What's with the sudden interest in Hell's thermostat?" he asked. "Even a child knows that Hell's hot, so what is it you're really looking for?"

"You're positive there are no cold spots?" asked Sam. "Not even one?"

"If there was a cold section of Hell it could be seen as a reprieve from the regularly scheduled soul melting heat," he answered again with a roll of his eyes. "The point of Hell is that there is no relief, apart from making the switch from being on the rack to the one placing souls there instead. Which you're more than familiar with, of course."

A muscle jumped in Dean's jaw at the reminder of his time under Alastair's tutelage and he turned to leave.

"He's useless, Sam. Let's go."

Sam turned to follow his bother but he stopped before reaching out to close the door. He kept his back to the demon.

"…One more thing," he said slowly. "Back at the chapel…were you serious about what you said? About Rose and forgiveness?"

His heart gave a painful thump at the human's word, but he gave a well-practiced scoff, his voice thick with perfected nonchalance.

"Come now, Moose. You had me doped up on human blood, so I'm sure I said plenty of things."

"So you didn't mean it? Any of it?" he asked, his voice gaining a sharp edge.

"You really shouldn't believe the words of someone under the influence, didn't your mummy teach you better?"

Sam grabbed the edge of the door, green eyes piercing him with a frosty glare over his shoulder.

"Good to know."

And Crowley was left in darkness once again alone with his thoughts and the ache of emotions pounding through his veins.

* * *

Her thoughts were in a haze and she was dully thankful that Sam had led the way. She wouldn't have been able to find her way around the bunker otherwise. Her head felt like it was in a fog after she had sobbed into the hunter's shoulder. It was sinking in just how tired she was, her feet dragging against the floor. Sam had suggested that she freshened up and then tried to sleep afterwards, that it might help her feel better. He had even found her some clothes to borrow, older pieces of Dean's that he never wore anymore, promising that they would get hers washed since that were covered in dirt and mud from her stint out in the woods.

When her chin nearly dropped to her chest it snapped her back to the present and kept her from falling asleep where she leaned against the wall. The room was filling with steam and she gingerly began to peel off her filthy clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

Rose gasped as the hot water struck her bare skin, her body shuddering at the sharp change of temperature. Eyes widening at the sensation of heat, she welcomed it wholeheartedly, quickly moving beneath the showerhead in order to soak up every drop. God it had been so long she had been warm, she thought as she tilted her face up toward the stream. When her shivering had subsided, she began to look around the shower and started on the task of getting properly clean.

Her hair was a nightmare to take care of, she immediately realized as she carefully lathered the shampoo. She had forgotten how long it was, falling down her back. She hadn't gotten it cut when she was with the Winchesters had she? She winced as her fingers encountered another tangle. This was why she kept it done up in a bun, she remembered. Far less hassle. Maybe she should cut it this time?

 _When he brought his hand up and gave a sharp snap, she flinched when her hair was suddenly released from its tie, falling heavily past her shoulders. Goosebumps broke out across her skin when he suddenly leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear as he whispered,_

" _And your hair looks lovely as always, darling."_

Her hands had stilled at the faded memory and after a moment she resumed tending to her hair although not as harshly this time. There was an ache deep within her chest but she tried to focus on the task at hand, carefully working her fingers through the strands until she could so smoothly. When she was satisfied, she moved onto the rest of her body, wanting to be free from any reminders of the night, of her fear fueled run through the woods that was all too familiar.

The soap steadily washed away the filth and grime, disappearing down the drain as she allowed herself to enjoy the hot water. She relished the heat, wanting to absorb as much as possible. It had been so long since she felt warmth…

… _Fingers like pure ice ghosted over her poor bare skin, frost appearing in the wake of his touch. The motions were soft, almost gentle, but it was all a lie. Deceptively beautiful. Everything about him was a lie. His words, his hands, all of it…She wanted to be free from him…she wanted to be warm…with…_

Only when her exhaustion made itself known to her did she turned off the water and wrapped a towel tightly around herself as she stepped out of the shower. She picked up the dirty clothes she had left and moved them up to the sink so to be off of the floor, stilling when she heard something fall against the porcelain. Ignoring the fact the small sound made her flinch terribly, she moved the clothes over further to see a ring circling at the bottom of the basin, slow moving due to the chain that was looped through it. It was too big to fit any of her fingers, she noted as she tentatively reached down and picked up the heavy ring.

… _A summoning…The ghost of a young man lost at sea…Family history tarnished and warped by anger and abuse…Proof that the demon was once a man…_

The MacLeod crest was imposed upon the aged metal, the words nearly lost due to the passage of time and the erosion of the ocean. She traced the letters with her fingertip in order to make out the message.

 _Hold Fast._

She hadn't realized that she had started to cry until the tears were curving past her cheeks and dripping from her chin. Her body dared to shake as she continued to look down at the ring, her vision wavering as she refused to look away. Her knuckles were white from holding on so tightly and she closed her eyes as she brought the ring to her lips, hot tears rolling.

She should let go, a small voice whispered in her thoughts, it would be the reasonable thing to do. Clearly, it was all one-sided. Vastly so. If she would just accept her fate then maybe she could move on. Start over.

The thought of moving on left a dull ache in her chest and she gave a shake of her head, struggling to take a deep breath to compose herself. With shaky fingers, she untangled the chain and tugged it on over her head.

 _One thing at a time_ , she told herself.

She quickly changed into the sweatpants, drawing the strings tight, and she pulled on the too big Metallica shirt, which thankfully hid the ring well enough. Quietly, she moved to the door and peeked out into the bedroom to find it vacant. Pushing open the door, she slowly stepped into Sam Winchester's room.

The first thing she noticed was the amount of books and researching materials neatly organized throughout the space. A small smile tugged at her mouth. Sam, always the scholar, she remembered. The room was simple beyond the books. Clean too. The desk was organized, the two nightstands each had a lamp, one also had a rotary phone while an empty tea cup was on the other. What an odd place, the Men of Letter's bunker, she couldn't help but muse.

There was a click as the doorknob moved and she quickly turned around to see Sam stepping into the room, running one hand over his face. He was exhausted, she noticed with a frown. The way his shoulders were slightly hunched forward like they were almost too heavy, the dragging of his feet, and even from her distance she could see the shadows under his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping well.

"You've lost weight," she heard herself say out loud. Embarrassed by how rude that sounded, she quickly apologized. "S-sorry…"

He blinked, slightly taken aback by her blunt statement but gave a small wry smile in return. "No, you're right…a lot has happened since…we saw each other last…"

The hunter cleared his throat to change the topic, seemingly have realized where the conversation would inevitably drift due to his words.

"I'm sure you're tired. I can lead you back to the other room. You're welcome to use it as your own—"

At the mention of leaving, Rose felt her heart give a painful beat, fear beginning to circulate again. Alone in the darkness. The never ceasing pitch black that threatened to swallow her whole again…

"Or—or not," added Sam after a moment, his brow furrowed in concern. Something in her expression must've alerted him, she reasoned. "You could stay here if you'd like."

Some semblance of manners kicked in, coloring her cheeks once more. "I-I couldn't—I mean, it's your room and I would just be taking up space—I should—I should go back…"

"Rose," he called her name softly but firmly, stepping up to her cautiously, not wanting to startle her. "You are always welcomed here. With us. You're never just "taking up space" or anything like that. If you don't want to go back to that room by yourself, that's fine. I get it. I know that—that nights can be the hardest. The darkness. The silence that seems too loud all at once. I—I know…"

Her bottom lip dared to tremble and she slowly nodded, doing her best to keep herself together. It wouldn't be fair to Sam if she broke down again, twice in the same night. Taking a breath, she gave small, tight smile, truly appreciative of his kind offer.

"Then—if you don't mind—I'd like to stay here, please…"

He gave a small sad smile in return. "'Course."

She didn't question it when Sam left the lamp on her side of the bed turned on, suffusing the room in the soft glow. They didn't have to say anything as they shared the bed, Rose sliding under the blanket while Sam took his place on top. It wasn't odd for them to share the same bed. When the three of them were traveling, motels sometimes offered a rollaway bed but it usually came at a cost and it really wasn't necessary. Spending so much time together traveling in the Impala, fighting monsters, and posing as agents of the law, sharing a bed was nothing. Plus she and Sam were always paired up (once he regained his soul and could sleep, that is) since it would've been awkward for Dean due to his relationship with Lisa at the time. It wasn't too bad since Dean was the louder snorer of the two, Sam just had to the tendency to steal most of the bed but the man was a giant so she couldn't hold it against him so she just learned to adapt.

It didn't matter that there was only one pillow, she was too short next to Sam anyway and solved it by tucking one arm under her head. He was on his side facing her and she lightly grasped the material of his shirt, reassuring herself once again that everything was real and that she was indeed alive and with the Winchesters. Working through the doubt, her heart wanted to burst being back with the hunters.

"Thank you, Sam…" she said, her voice barely above a whisper yet still daring to crack. "I…I really missed you all…so much…"

"Trust me, we missed you too," he reassured her, a soft heat creeping into his voice. "You're family, Rose, and I swear, we won't let anything happen to you. We'll keep you safe."

Sam's hand carefully smoothed over her hair, the kind stroking motion quickly lulling her to relax, her eyes fluttering close. Her breathing evened out and soon she drifted off. She didn't know when his hand stopped moving and she certainly didn't see his eyes suddenly burn a bright and furious white blue.

* * *

 **REVIEW! We finally have internet at our house, thank goodness! Now I can work on this story more regularly!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! I had too many things outlined to fit into one chapter, it would've been too much back and forth to the point of whiplash. But next chapter! Next chapter Rose and Crowley will cross paths (finally!). Rose certainly has her work cut out for her in terms of coping with her own trauma while Crowley struggles with his dose of humanity and...well, feelings.**

 **I'd love to hear your thoughts and hope you all enjoy!**


	22. Chapter 22

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Twenty-Two**

* * *

Dean Winchester was already exhausted and it wasn't even noon yet. He and Sam decided to talk to Crowley again first thing and lay down the law of what they expected of him as their prisoner. Of course, the smarmy demon wasn't exactly receptive to their plan.

"Alright, here's how it's going to go. You're giving us every name of every demon on earth and the people they're possessing," Sam told him shortly, prepped with a pencil and a notepad.

"Am I? Doesn't sound like me," Crowley commented, unimpressed.

"I saw you break down, Crowley," reminded Sam. The demon's answer from the night before didn't stop his brother from reminding him of when they almost completed the third trial. "When I was trying to cure you, I know a part of you was human again, maybe still is—"

"Blah-blah. Boo hoo. Done?" he snarked in return. Dean narrowed his eyes at the sharp interruption. What was said in the chapel was clearly a sore point, regardless of how he brushed off Sam's question.

"Good. 'Cause this is what I know," continued Crowley. "I'm not _giving_ you anything. Why would I? You have no _leverage_ , darlings. You're not going to close the gates of Hell, because you didn't. You're not going to kill me, because you haven't. So, what's left?"

Dean barely withheld a smirk. It was a lot of bravado coming from a powerless demon chained up in their dungeon. "We have a few ideas."

"Torture? Brilliant," guessed Crowley with a roll of his eyes. "Can't wait to see Sam in stilettos and wearing a leather bustier. Really putting the S-A-M into S-and-M. Honestly, boys, what are you going to do to me that I don't do to myself just for kicks every Friday night?"

The boys were silent despite the efforts to wind them up, smirking as they turned and left the demon alone once again the dark room. Going off of what Sam told him about Crowley's breakdown coupled with the strange twist of fate that was Rose's revival, the best method for getting the King of Hell to comply was currently fast asleep in Sam's bed.

He was alarmed by Sam waking him up in the dead of night to explain what had happened when Rose woke up. She was disoriented, scared out of her mind, and very clearly suffering through some sort of trauma. Which was to be expected due to her time in Hell. The most glaring concern was Sam's theory of just _where_ she had been stashed away all this time.

" _Dean…I-I think…I think Rose was in the cage…" Sam told him, his voice dropping to a strained whisper._

" _What—the cage? How?" he asked, all drowsiness gone in an instant. "She didn't have the four rings to open the cage or anything like that. How in the hell could she have gotten there?"_

" _I don't know, but," he ran his hands through his hair, "Dean, it was like she couldn't believe that I was standing right in front of her. She only—she only believed me when I hugged her and she…she said that I was warm. That was what broke her out of her shock and she just—just cried, Dean…"_

 _His little brother's voice was rough as he stared down at his knees, hands still lost in his hair. Dean could practically see the gears spinning in his mind as he tried to figure out what had happened to their friend. Sam never spoke about his time in the cage and Dean knew when to leave it alone. After everything that happened with wall that Death put up in his mind and that Cas tore down, the aftermath that followed was one of the worst times in Dean's life. He couldn't fight any monster or take the hits for him. It was a battlefield in Sam's mind and he couldn't intervene. After Cas somehow made the transfer and Sam was free from the unceasing visions of Lucifer himself, he didn't breach the topic again for fear of triggering another potential break._

" _Did she—did she say that he was there?" Dean asked carefully. Sam shook his head._

" _No, it—it was that she said that I was warm and I know that the cage—and him—it all burns cold…"_

" _Well, we have a certain King of the Damned that can confirm that for us."_

The fact that Crowley didn't have any cold spaces worked into his design of Hell only served to confirm Sam's theory…

"What's Crowley doing here?! Why isn't he dead?! Why aren't you stabbing him right now?!" came the strangled shout of Kevin Tran as he and Sam entered the study. He was surprised they managed to avoid the argument all the way until morning, though he bet that walking into the bunker with an unconscious girl helped deter the outrage.

"All right, all right. Chill out, Kevin, okay?" Dean tried to assure, albeit half-assed. He hadn't had any coffee yet, he wasn't quite ready to argue with the prophet. "We need him."

"What?!"

Sam chimed in. "Kevin, look, if we can get Crowley to give us the name of every demon he's got topside we can hunt them down—all of them."

"He will break," Dean promised. "'We've got the advantage here. And when he does, we'll hold him down while you knife 'im. Then we all go out for ice cream and strippers."

Kevin didn't argue but he didn't look convinced either.

"Just stay away from him, all right?" added Sam.

Dean's phone rang, a call from an unknown numbers but that was hardly new, and he moved away to the kitchen to take the call.

"Hello?"

" _Dean?"_

He let loose a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Cas. Man, is it good to hear from you," he said, running a hand over his face. "Where the hell are you?"

" _I'm…"_ There was an aggrieved sigh. _"I'm outside a 7-11 in St. Joseph, Kansas off US-81."_

"That's great. Just zap on over here so we can regroup. We've got to figure out what the hell is going on—"

" _Dean,"_ Castiel interrupted. _"Metatron—he…he took my grace…"_

A pause. "He—what? He stole your mojo? How? Why?"

" _He wasn't trying to close Heaven with the angels inside. He was activating a spell that would cause the angels to fall. My grace…it was the final ingredient."_

Dean refused to mention that he had been made painfully aware of the overall angel status when he made the open-invite prayer that brought the fight to the hospital while he was trying to heal Sam. He pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache already coming on. That was another problem that was going to have to wait. Now wasn't the time.

"So—you're human now?" guessed the hunter.

" _It…appears so. I can't…I can't even hear them. My connection to angel radio is lost as well…"_

"Hang tight, Cas. I'm coming to get you," he promised. "I'll be there as fast as can, so—just keep under the radar, alright? We'll get this figured out."

" _I understand..."_

"I'm on my way."

He had just ended the call and turned to leave the kitchen when there was a quiet voice.

"Dean?"

The voice was soft and he moved toward the kitchen's entrance and came face to face with the once lost girl, both stopping to keep from bumping into each other. Rosette was looking up at him with wide blue eyes, a little pale as she hesitated.

It was even more startling to see her again in proper lighting. His last real memory of her, besides her funeral, was the terrible car ride back to Bobby's after Cas had taken in the souls of Purgatory. The entire drive was in silence, no one making a sound. Dean kept looking at his rearview mirror so to check on Sam in the backseat. The youngest Winchester had been the first to find Rose and had taken on the responsibility of moving her body. She had looked so small in his brother's arms…His heart ached in agony at the sight. This girl that was thrown into their chaotic world and decided to stay and help them was now killed in the most brutal way and he was speaking from experience. When he glanced back at Sam, he could see tears quietly falling as the hunter protectively cradled the girl to his chest.

And now she was standing right in front of him like that night never happened.

"Heya, Red," he greeted with a small smile pulling at his mouth. He could see some of her tension leave her shoulders as she smiled in return. "I gotta say, it's damn good to see you again."

Her smile became brighter and she dared to edge closer, her voice beginning to shake. "It's so good to see you too, Dean…"

Reading her movements, Dean closed the distance and pulled her into a hug which she immediately returned. He bussed the top of her head with a chaste kiss and moved to casually throw his arm over her shoulder, leading her down the hall. Unfortunately they couldn't stand around and catch up since he had to go run and pick up a certain angel. His headache threatened to turn into a migraine at the new problem that presented itself. Now with Rose here, she and Cas would have to face each other and he didn't know how that was going to go. Her death was triggered by the angel removing the sigils he warded her with when he first brought her to them. How would they react to each other?

"Sorry, I've got to go make a quick run," he apologized. "Let's get you over to Sam and Kevin."

"Thanks. I had gotten kinda turned around," she agreed.

"Did you sleep alright?" he asked, glancing down. "Sam told me about last night."

She gave a little shrug. "I don't remember anything, so I count that as a good sleep." The girl gave another smile as she looked up at him, blue eyes shining. He quirked an amused brow and she looked away sheepishly, leaning more into his side.

"I'm sorry. I'm just—I'm just so happy to see you all…" she explained, her voice becoming thick with emotion. "I thought I'd never see you again…"

Dean gave her shoulder a tight squeeze. "You're back with us now. We won't let anything happen to you, y'hear? We've got you."

"Sam said pretty much the same thing," she said with a small breath of a laugh.

"Well if we both agree then you know it's true," he promised with a smile.

They rounded a corner and Rose found herself back in the study she had stumbled into the night before. She really had no idea how to maneuver through the hideout and on top of her initial panic when she woke up, she was more than overjoyed to run into Dean, his gruff voice finishing some kind of phone call. She was able to keep from bursting into happy tears when she first saw him, but she couldn't help but get a little teary-eyed the longer she looked up at the eldest Winchester. God, she had just missed everyone _so_ much…

Sam turned at their arrival and she was immediately relieved. So she wasn't in some kind of dream. When she woke up alone with an ache of cold, she was terrified that she had made up everything that happened last night. That it had all been some twisted hallucination. Thank goodness it was real.

"Look who I found," announced Dean.

Sam gave a nod and a smile. "Mornin'. How're you feeling?"

"Better," she answered. "Little less…panicky, I think."

"Good. That's, yeah, really good," Sam agreed, smiling still. He cleared his throat and gestured to the young man beside him that she had just noticed. "Rose, this is Kevin Tran. Kevin, this is Rosette Herondale."

They both stepped forward and shook hands, Rose giving a small reassuring smile of her own. "Nice to meet you, Kevin."

"You too," he nodded. "So…how're you mixed up with all of this?"

She gave a little smirk at his blunt question, amused. "Um, I sold my soul and died."

"But you're back?"

"Somehow," she said with a little unsure shrug. "I'm…still wrapping my head around it. But what about you? Are you a hunter?"

"I'm a prophet of the Lord," he said with a tired sigh. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"Wow. That's…fancy."

"Not as fancy as you'd think," he admitted.

Dean spoke up next, speaking to Sam but the two shorter members turned to pay attention.

"Listen, I've got to make a quick run. I should be back in a couple of hours."

"Alone?" asked Sam, his brows knitting in apprehension. "We don't know the full extent of what's goin' on out there—"

"It'll be quick. I should be back in a few hours, tops," said Dean. "Besides, you should run the tests then get Red here caught up to speed. A lot's happened."

Sam looked like he wanted to argue but his brother had a valid point. Rose had zero idea of what day it was let alone what they've gone through since she's been gone.

"Fine," he agreed, "but if anything comes up, call me."

"You got it."

After Dean left the room, Sam waited a beat before turning back around to face them, running a hand through his hair. He gestured to one of the chairs at the closet table.

"If you, uh, want to have a seat, Rose. We're going to give you a couple of tests," he explained with an apologetic look.

Tests to make sure she was herself and not a monster.

She nodded in understanding. Of course, it only made sense. She should be more surprised that they didn't insist on running the tests when they first found her. So she quietly sat at the table and Sam brought over a few items, the first one he handed to her being a flask imposed with a cross. Holy water.

"Cheers," she tried to joke before bringing it up to her lips and tipping her head back.

Nothing.

It tasted like water. No searing pain or hissing that demons usually exhibit when they're exposed to the blessed water.

She screwed the cap back on and handed it to Sam. Next, he pulled out a small silver knife and she couldn't help but flinch.

… _The cold hurt more than any blade. His touch was like razors as she cried out, unable to escape him…_

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly.

She quickly worked to tear away from the memory's grasp and brought her arm up for him.

"It's okay," she told him, doing her best to keep the waver out of her voice.

He gently grasped her hand to steady her arm before bringing the knife across the top of her forearm, making her wince. There was no burning, only the sting of a cut as the bright red line of blood appeared in the blade's wake. Sam wasted no time in binding the injury before he brought out a test the girl didn't recognize.

A bottle of Borax: Power Clean.

Rose leaned back in her chair and brought her arms back to her side of the table, confused. "Look, I'll bleed and drink holy water, no problem, but I am _not_ drinking cleaner for you."

Sam gave a short laugh at her reaction.

"No, no, I don't need you to drink this," he explained. "It just needs to touch your skin. We had to deal with a new monster, the Leviathans, and they ate people and could shapeshift to look like anyone as long as they had just a hair of their DNA. This was the one thing we found that could hurt them."

She stared at him with open concern. _That_ sounded like a terrifying monster.

"Jesus." She held out her other hand to him. "Test me, test me. Yikes…"

He pressed the palm of her hand tightly against the open spout and tipped it over and back so not to spill. Her hand came back clean, pun intended. She didn't know how it would've reacted if she was positive, most likely a burning sensation as it did with most monster's and their kryptonites.

"All right, all clear," declared Sam with a relieved smile. "You're you."

Rose gave a smile of her own, shoulders relaxing with a sigh as she practically melted into the chair. Thank goodness, so she really was herself. Despite still being cold and the...thoughts that threatened to overrun…she was still herself in the end.

"Thank god…" she whispered.

Sam looked equally relieved as he pushed the items to side. Kevin took a seat on the hunter's side, still watching her cautiously.

"So…where do you want to start?" asked Sam.

"Um, well…how—how long have I been gone?" Rose tentatively asked. They had to start somewhere, might as well set up a timeline for her to work with.

"You…had died back in October 2011," began Sam gently, "and now it's October 2014…"

 _What…?_

"Three years…" she croaked, throat suddenly dry. The color had drained from her face as she slumped back into her chair. "H-how…it didn't feel…"

 _Three hundred and sixty years…_ her thoughts reminded her. Time flowed differently in Hell. One month on Earth was equivalent to ten years in Hell, Bobby had told her that back in the beginning. Three years. Twelve months in a year. One month meant ten years in Hell. Which meant that in total, three hundred and sixty years had passed for her in Hell.

…" _It's just you and me, Rosie. For the rest of eternity," he crooned in her ear as she gasped for breath. Her throat was raw and bleeding from screaming and she blearily looked up at the metal ceiling, tears slowly creeping down and meeting her hairline since she was lying flat on her back on the cold hard ground. His hands wrapped around her neck and he began to squeeze._

" _You're mine forever, baby…"_

"Rose?"

She blinked at the sound of her name being called and it took an extra second for her to focus on Sam, who was leaning forward, concerned.

"I was, um, I was going to say that I was surprised. It seemed…considerably longer," she answered, clearing her throat. She hadn't meant to slip away, becoming lost in a moment she wanted to forget. Rubbing her throat absentmindedly, she forced a small smile and gave a nod.

"Okay, so what's happened in three years?"

Well over two hours later, she was regretting ever asking.

The cliff notes: Castiel had declared himself God, then tried to put the souls back in Purgatory but the Leviathans didn't let go. The Leviathans began to take over everything, wanting to consume America with their Alpha, Dick Roman spearheading a huge conglomerate with enough power to make that goal a reality. Cas and Dean manage to land a killing strike on the boss monster but got caught in the aftermath and they were lost to Purgatory for a year.

 _Purgatory_. _For a year..._

Then they were back and they quickly became involved in the Heaven and Hell drama because the stakes were raised due to the prophet Kevin and stone tablets only he could translate. This was especially important as he had the Demon tablet and it held valuable information concerning the Hell Trials that, if completed, could close the gates of Hell forever.

With her on the wrong side, she couldn't help but think.

Oh, and the angels have fallen from heaven.

And, oh yes, there was a Knight of Hell named Abaddon that was looking to make it Hell on earth.

Her head was positively spinning with the new information as she worked to digest it all, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, her hands lost to her hair as she pushed it away from her face.

"Are you all right?" Sam asked again.

"Yeah, it's…it's just a lot to take in," she said, taking a deep breath. "Wow. Man, you guys can't ever catch a break can you?"

Sam gave a humorless laugh. "Tell me about it."

"So what about you?" asked Kevin, speaking up. "How did you come back?"

Sam gave him a sharp look but Rose didn't mind. It was her turn to explain now.

"I don't know _how_ but I woke up at the salvage yard and—oh!" She stopped herself as a thought struck her like a bolt and she looked back to Sam sharply. "Sam, what happened to Bobby's house? It was burned out and abandoned when I was there."

"The—the Leviathans burned it down when they starting taking over," he answered slowly.

"So is Bobby here then?" she asked, hope rising in her chest as she turned in her chair to check the other doorways. "This seems like a far more secure place for all of his books and research anyway—"

"Rose."

She flinched when Sam called her name and his hand slipped over hers, giving a small squeeze. The lightness of hope swiftly changed to icy fear as she saw sad green eyes looking back at her.

 _No…_

"Rose…Bobby's dead," he told her as gently as possible.

Her lips barely moved as she managed to mutter a strained, "Wh-what…?"

"It was during the Leviathans. They had burned down his house and later, he—he was shot in the head…"

A strangled sound escaped her as she stared up at him in horror. She felt his hand shake and even though she squeezed back in return, she could feel herself becoming quickly overwhelmed. Her chest felt too tight as her heart raced at the news, her bottom lip trembling.

 _Bobby's dead…_

"He ran from his reaper for as long as he could, but—there was no coming back from that kind of injury…"

Numbly, she nodded while she tried to keep herself from falling too deep into her thoughts, whispers of memories wanting to pull her in.

Bobby was gone. She didn't get to say goodbye to him on the night she died and now she was back and she couldn't…she couldn't say goodbye still. The man that took her in and taught her about the hunter lifestyle. While she learned plenty from Sam during her first year, Bobby was the one she spent the majority of her time with, studying cases and helping the boys out with the lore they would dig up. His gruff and no nonsense attitude that made her smile, reminding her of her own father. He had taught her so much about monsters, hunting, and life in general. She owed him so much and she couldn't even tell him thank you—

"Rose?"

The chair scraped as she pushed it back and got to her feet. She didn't look back at the youngest Winchester. She knew that if she saw him looking at her with those too sad puppy eyes that she would crumble. She didn't want to break down again and a little hiccup escaped her as she tried to wrap her head around the fact that Bobby Singer was dead.

"I-I'm gonna take a break…just for a second…"" she excused, struggling to keep her breathing steady.

"Yeah. Of course. Take your time," agreed Sam.

She started to turn but stopped and looked to Sam again, doing her best to keep even more tears from falling, resulting in her vision blurring.

"Did you…did you tell them?" she managed to half whisper. "What I—what I told you…that night?"

" _I love you—all of you, so much…I can't—I can't even begin to tell you how much. This—all of this, with you, the hunting and monsters, everything—this has been…the best part of my life and I can't thank you enough…!"_

Sam gave a solemn nod as the memory surfaced again.

"Yes. I told them. So Bobby, he knew too," he told her. "And Rose, he—he loved you too, y'know…"

As her tears finally fell, the youngest Winchester clearly remembered Bobby after Rose's death and her funeral. The anger, the lack of sleep and too much alcohol. It was the classic Singer mourning process. They saw it with the death of Rufus and it hurt to see their father figure go through the heartbreak. There was one night when he had too much and the brothers were shuffling him off to bed, not listening to any of his half-assed reasons to stay up and dig up lore. His speech had been slurred, his gruff voice more of a low growl with inebriation. When they managed to get him to lay down, they could make out some of what he was saying,

" _Shoulda made 'im…break 'er deal…Shoulda…shoulda…saved 'er…"_

The two boys watched Rose shakily leave the study, her head low as she disappeared down a hall. When she was out of sight, Kevin turned to Sam, confusion obvious.

"So why didn't you mention Crowley in any of the recap?" he asked. "He was the final trial and we have him stashed in our dungeon!"

"It's complicated…" Sam sighed.

Kevin wasn't buying that answer as he watched him, his gaze unwavering. "Then un-complicate it."

Sam rubbed his face with a groan, already exhausted. He shouldn't have told her about Bobby so soon, but she had brought it up and he didn't have a good enough cover story. They should've paced out the information better…

"It's complicated because she sold her soul to Crowley," he tried to explain. "I-I don't know how she'd react to knowing about him, let alone being in the same place as him…"

"Tell me about it," Kevin grumbled, his eyes sharpening into a glare at the thought of the King of Hell. "It sucks."

"We don't know what she's been through or how she'll cope with being topside…" Sam continued, his voice quietening, "…and that's what worries me the most…"

* * *

Rose was relieved that she was able to keep her composure long enough to make it down the hall before shakily dropping down to the balls of her feet, covering her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook as she did her best to muffle her sobs, trying not to be heard. She couldn't help but sniff and hiccup, her chest aching terribly as she tried to wrap her mind around the impossible thought that Bobby Singer was dead.

 _Not Bobby…!_ She couldn't keep her thoughts from focusing on the single point. The gruff hunter that she spent so much time learning from, researching with, and just spent so much time with in general, was gone. _It's just not fair…!_

A loud sob escaped and she clamped her hand over her mouth to quickly snuff it out.

She forced herself to take a few deep breaths, albeit shaky, before she completely lost all control over her composure. She just needed to make it back to Sam's room before she broke down and had a proper cry over her loss, perhaps coming to terms afterwards. A lot of information had been thrown at her and her mind was buzzing, thoughts swirling madly. Honestly, she needed to lay down.

The tile of the wall was cool under her palm as she pushed herself back to her full height, swaying ever so slightly. Taking a second to close her eyes, she then started to move down the hall and focus on the task at hand.

How did she get back to Sam's room exactly?

The Men of Letters bunker was uniform in color and style and there wasn't anything that could help differentiate the doors and the halls she passed. Sighing, she simply gave up trying to remember and followed her intuition instead, taking what path felt best. Her feet led her to down the next hall and she soon found herself slowing to a stop in front of a door marked 7B.

Had Sam's door been marked like that? She could've sworn that his door had some kind of symbol in addition to a number, but there was some part of her that was urging her to open the door. There was something familiar…

Giving up on questioning everything, she simply opened the door and stepped inside.

It took a moment to find the switch, but when light filled the room she gave a disappointed sigh, shoulders sagging.

A storage room.

 _Super…_ she mentally groaned at herself. Not a bedroom but a room that was filled with shelving units and stacked with files and boxes. She took a few steps into the storage room, taking a look around since she was already there. Just how much information did these Men of Letters have stored away? She gave another little sniff as the train of thought led her back to Bobby and how he would've loved to get his hands on their extensive research—

"Kevin?"

Rose froze at the sudden voice, whirling around to see if someone had stepped into the room behind her.

No one.

"Kevin, I know it's you. I'd recognize the pitter-patter of those little feet anywhere."

The voice was low, accented, almost gravely, and rough and—

Her vision dared to sway and her pulse began to pound against her eardrums as she tried to remember how to breathe and think at the same time. She knew that voice. She _knew_ it. Down to the decibel. She thought—she thought she would never hear it again, that—

She shook her head to distract herself from the thoughts that were daring to sink their hooks into her. Focus. She had to focus. Looking around, she could only see the shelves and boxes. What seemed odd was that the back shelves weren't braced against the back wall, the light allowing her to see that there was space beyond the unit.

"That's right. Run. It's what you do," he continued. "I understand. I do."

No longer actively listening, she made her way to the shelves where she noticed an odd curve of a line peeking out from underneath the bottom shelf. Squinting, she could even make out some scuff marks, showing that something had been dragged. A secret room maybe? How Scooby Doo, she couldn't help but think.

"You're—what's the word?"

She reached out and grabbed the edges of the center units, pulling with surprising ease as the mechanics kicked into gear with a low groan. She opened the doors fully and stepped into the newfound space.

" _Weak_."

All of the air in the room seemed to vanish.

Rose couldn't tell if her heart was beating or not in that moment.

The King of Hell was right in front of her, sitting in a chair in the center of an iron devil's trap. She could see the silver of some kind of cuffs binding his hands. A collar around his neck. There was blood coating half of his face, reaching up to his hair line and some even splattered on his black coat. He had grown some facial hair since she last saw him but besides that it was as if nothing had changed.

She didn't know why that thought made her chest ache.

He was openly staring at her in return at a temporary loss for words for once. Hazel eyes then sharpened into a glare.

"If this is some kind of _trick_ —"

She blinked in confusion. "A trick?"

There was a small flinch at her voice but he continued, "Or whatever hare-brained scheme those two lumberjacks have thrown together. I must say this is in poor taste, even for them."

"Why—why would it be a trick?" she asked, her voice still trembling. She was still openly staring at him, trying to take everything in. The black coat, the black suit, had his tie always been more gray than black? The light brown hair and those hazel eyes…

"Because Rosette is lost…"

There was a waver on the last word and Rose couldn't help but focus on the odd inflection. She still couldn't quite catch her breath.

"I was lost? Wh-what do you…what do you mean?" she asked weakly, her throat growing tight. "You…you couldn't find me…?"

He was quiet for a moment, studying her in return. Her stomach gave a sickening flip when she realized that he didn't trust her. Didn't believe that she was really standing in front of him. How could she prove herself to him?

Her voice was still not cooperating fully so she shakily reached up and pulled the chain out from under the collar of the borrowed shirt, bringing the MacLeod signet ring out for him to see. Turning the imposed ring toward him, she gave a strained little smile.

"It's me…" she managed to croak. "I promise."

What remaining color he had quickly vanished as he looked from the ring to her again, his eyes widening.

His lips scarcely moved as he dared to whisper, "Rosette…?"

A smile dared to pull at her mouth as his faith in her was restored, her eyes pricking with tears again. "Hiya…"

"How—how are you—have you—been here the whole time?" he rasped, stumbling over his words to get his question out.

"No," she answered, shaking her head. "Have—have you?"

"No—no, Rosette," he answered fervently, leaning forward in the chair which made the chain rattle in response. "Rosette, you need to know that I did _not_ call your contract to task that night—I would _never_ go back on my word, not with you."

"Oh—oh, I know," she quickly assured him. She brought her hand up to her sternum, the memory of that night bringing the phantom aches to the surface. "I…I could feel the sigils being removed…I knew that wasn't you…but I…I…"

 _I called for you…screamed for you…begged for you…I needed you…_

"Rosette…" the King spoke up again, still trying to move forward despite the restraints. His voice was still raw, the words coming out rough. "I cannot even begin to tell you how sorry I am, my darling. I gave you my word and I couldn't keep it. I don't deserve to ask but if you could...please…forgive me…I will do everything in my power to earn your trust again..."

The demon she sold her soul to all those years ago, the current King of Hell, was apologizing to _her_. Her chest grew tight, her vision burning with tears and she couldn't look away. Her heart couldn't help but pound as she carefully approached him, daring to step into the devil's trap.

She should be upset with him. Angry even. She had every right to be. What she went through…she couldn't properly wrap her mind around what exactly happened, for better or worse. With each small step, she could feel her heart seize with emotion but she couldn't bring herself to be angry with him. After all of the time that passed…all of the pain…she couldn't hate him…That probably said more about her than anything, but it was her truth.

The warmth that was ever present with him could be felt as she moved closer and she gave a smile as he looked up at her, his gaze never straying, and she finally allowed herself to say his name.

"Crowley—"

No sooner had his name left her lips did her world seem to collapse in on itself. She had gone still mid-stride and proceeded to fall forward onto the ground. The side of her face was pressed against the floor as she could only stare on as her reality rapidly unraveled, her senses fading…

… _It was too cold…impossibly so…The darkness was oppressive, a physical weight she felt on every inch of her body…_

" _Now Rosie…what did I tell you?"_

 _She whirled around at the voice, terror racing down her spine. Before she could back away those too cold hands were around her throat again. He was too bright, blinding in the darkness as his wings unfurled, adding to his size and intimidation. She couldn't pull away, whimpering as he leaned in closer, his lips practically touching hers as he growled,_

" _He's never coming for you. You're mine. Forever."_

 _Rose couldn't even cry out, fear freezing her words in her throat. She could hear his grin in his next words,_

" _Let me remind you…"_

"Rosette!"

The dungeon was filled with the sound of chains rattling as Crowley threw himself against his restraints, not caring how they cut into his skin. She was so close to him when she suddenly fell, just out of his reach. He grabbed the thick iron collar and threw his weight against it, unable to get a good footing since his ankles were chained to the chair as well. Blood was making his palms slick but he didn't care as he fought and struggled to reach her.

" _Rosette_!"

She was unresponsive, her body eerily still. He couldn't even reach her to check her pulse at the very least. Growling, he strained against the collar and reached out toward her, but he was too far away. Useless.

He couldn't bear the thought of losing her again. He could help her. _He was right bloody there!_ What was happening? What was wrong? Was she still breathing? She had to be alive—she had to be! He couldn't lose her again. His heart couldn't take it.

Her name was ripped raw from his throat, resounding in the dungeon in undeniable anguish as he allowed himself to cry out for her.

" _ROSETTE!"_

* * *

 **REVIEW! Dunn duun duuuunnnn! Lots going on for poor Rosette! Lots of information and things to adjust to now that she's back. Next chapter is going to be interesting and I'm excited to write it. Had to try and work with the year based on the story, the series, and adding the year Dean/Cas were stuck in Purgatory. Poor Rose, but we'll get more answers next chapter!**

 **I hope you enjoyed and your thoughts would be loved like always!**


	23. Chapter 23

**A Crow with a Rose**

 **Chapter Twenty-Three**

* * *

Riding in the Impala always brought on a wave of nostalgia, Castiel noticed as he looked out the window at the rolling scenery.

Usually his moments were brief in the vehicle but there was always the scent of leather, traces of alcohol, and "classic" rock playing on the radio. Classic to the boys. His own age led to a different definition of the word, but he found himself enjoying the music nonetheless. It fit the Winchesters well. Dean especially.

The radio was playing even now and conversation was sparse between himself and the hunter. He had explained everything he could about Metatron, the spell, and what the scribe had planned. They were at a loss as to the current angel situation. He was without his grace due to it being used as the spell's final ingredient, and while he was fortunate that he hadn't encountered any of his brothers or sisters, he also didn't know the full extent of their ability. Did they still have their own grace? Their wings? He was cut off from angel radio and left alone in the silence.

He glanced over at Dean, taking a moment to take him into account. While the eldest Winchester could be occasionally taciturn, the tension in the air was apparent to him. Green eyes were staring hard at the road and he knew that they were seeing beyond the scenery, lost in thought. His hands were gripping the steering wheel too tightly, the needle climbing higher on the speed gauge. Again, Dean tended to drive faster than most, but he could feel that something was wrong.

"Dean."

"Mm?" he barely grunted, gaze still locked on the road.

"Has something else happened?"

His gripped tighten on the wheel. So, he was right.

"Dean. Is everyone safe?" he asked, his urgency apparent. "Is Sam all right? Did the trials hurt him?"

"Sam's fine. Still recovering, but he's—he's on the mend," Dean answered. They took a left onto an unmarked back road. "But—well, we had an unexpected visitor the other night when we made it back after the trials…"

The angel's brows furrowed in concern. "Who?"

Dean took a breath.

"Rose."

Castiel gave him an incredulous look, not caring how apparent his confusion was to his friend.

"Rosette Herondale?" he clarified. "But—she's—"

"Yeah," Dean cut in, "well, now she's not. No idea how she managed that yet, but we've got an idea of where she's been."

A sick feeling of dread began to swell up in the pit of his stomach. Though she was killed by a Hellhound due to selling her soul to the crossroads demon, the death was brought upon her due to him removing the angelic sigils that he had originally marked her with upon their first meeting, unintentionally prolonging her life. He knew full well that the marks were interfering with her contract with Crowley and if removed that her death would be immediate. He… _knowingly_ removed her only means of protection the night he took the souls of Purgatory into himself.

" _I'm afraid the angel's right."_

" _What…what does that mean then?" Rose asked carefully. Castiel could feel the fear radiating from her as well as hear it in her voice as it trembled. Of course she was afraid. Hell was to be her eternity, brought on by the Hellhounds that would viciously drag her there._

 _He noticed that Crowley's gaze lingered on her while he kept his voice mild. "It means that since Castiel here has marked up your contract with his sigils, I cannot collect your soul at this point in time. Unless he so kindly removes them—"_

" _I will not," Castiel snapped._

He had been so certain. So _convicted_ of his righteous intention and that it would never waver. He would never knowingly put her in death's sight by removing the sigils. Of course not, he was an angel.

It made his stomach churn uncomfortably at the cold fact that he did exactly what he swore against. And for what? To spite Crowley for betraying him?

He killed her.

The girl he brought into their life of angels, demons, and world ending danger. This human who became his friend and who put her faith in him, just for him to rip it away. He still remembered Sam burying the angel blade in his back after the hound came for her, his green eyes burning with justified fury and anguish, barely keeping his composure so to deal with the threat that the once-angel posed.

" _You killed Rose!"_

"Cas?'

Dean's voice pulled him from his thoughts and he blinked before realizing that they had come to a stop outside of what he presumed was the bunker's entrance. He turned his head to see those too green eyes, so similar to Sam's yet so distinctly different and remarkably _Dean_ , looking at him with what he would call concern.

"Listen, I know you and Rose have to hash out what happened," Dean told him, "and we'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Until then, I think it's just better that we get everyone together and regroup—"

"I understand, Dean," he said with a small nod. "I…would also like to use this opportunity to speak with Rosette myself and apologize, if I can…"

He gave an approving nod, turning the key so that the engine quieted. "All right then. Let's go."

Castiel followed Dean into the secret base, looking around in surprise at the scale of the underground hideout. It was very impressive and they were only at the entryway. He wondered how extensive the layout ran as he followed the hunter into a study and they saw Kevin and Sam sitting at one of the large oak tables.

The hunter and the prophet both rose to their feet at the sight of them.

"Cas! You're all right," sighed Sam with relief. A look of annoyance crossed his face as he turned to his brother. "Why didn't you tell me where you were going?"

"You had things under control here," shrugged Dean, "and I didn't want to rock the boat."

An unspoken understanding passed between the brothers and the subject was dropped. Castiel came to the uncomfortable conclusion that it was about having him and Rosette in the same place.

"Why don't I go make us something to eat and Cas can give the run down on heaven and Meta-douche—"

Dean was cut off when muted shout sounded off from within the bunker. There was hardly a beat before Sam turned heel and took off and Dean cursed before following.

"Dammit!"

The two ran down the hall with Kevin and Cas right behind them. He had hardly the time to marvel at the architecture of the bunker as he chased after the Winchesters. Nearly missing the sharp turn, he was at first confused by the store room and then what appeared to be a secret room. The shelves were thrown open wide to act as a doorway and the scene before him made his pulse skip and he found that he could only stare.

There on the floor was the unconscious figure of Rosette Herondale. Sam was kneeling next to her, carefully turning her over so that she was lying on her back. Her eyes were closed, long red hair loose and messy and she was wearing a mix of the boy's clothes. Sam's hands were cradling her face, turning her towards him and tapping her cheek to try to help wake her up as he called her name.

"Rose! Rose, can you hear me?!"

At the same time, there was the rattle of chains and Castiel was taken aback by the sight of Crowley. The King of Hell was within a large devil's trap and confined to a chair, but in that moment he was fighting tooth and nail against his restraints. His hands were bound by a pair of simple looking silver handcuffs, his ankles locked to the legs of the chair, and there was a large iron collar locked around his neck that was anchored to the floor. His face was also half covered in dried blood but none of that seemed to matter as the demon threw his body weight against the chains. His voice came out as a strangled growl, nearly breaking as the collar pressed further into his throat.

" _What have you done to her?!_ "

His wrists and neck were red with blood, the skin distressed and raw, noticed Castiel, his brow furrowing deeper in concern. Fortunately, Dean took the lead.

"How about you tell us what the hell happened here?" demanded the hunter, standing between the prisoner and his own brother who was glaring daggers at the demon while protectively taking the girl into his arms.

"How would I know?!" snapped Crowley, his lips curling in a snarl. "One moment, she walks in here and I discover that she's _alive_ , no thanks to you morons, and the next, she collapses. So someone better tell _me_ what's going on, tout _bloody_ suite—"

"Can the dramatics, Crowley," interrupted Dean, his expression equally aggravated. He looked back to Rose's quiet body in Sam's arms and ran a hand over his face, trying to come up with a solution.

"Let's get her to her room so we can keep an eye on her. Give her a little time to wake up on her own," he decided.

Sam gave a nod and slowly got to his feet, Rosette's body still unresponsive and so small next to him, and he started to turn toward the door when there was another loud shake of the chains. They all turned to see Crowley still trying to get out of his chair and cuffs, leaning hard against the tether.

"Free me—I can help," he insisted through gritted teeth. "Let me help her…"

If Castiel didn't know any better he would've thought the prideful King of Hell was begging, but Dean didn't hesitate.

"No dice."

The lights were switched off as they closed the door, leaving Crowley alone in the dark.

* * *

Rose didn't wake up that day. Or the next. Not even the day after that.

Dean didn't know what to do, honestly. They couldn't exactly dreamscape her mind, there was no telling what was going on in there. Just like the night she died and they couldn't do anything to help Sam but wait it out. There was too much Hell wreaking havoc in her head. The twisted sense of irony didn't go unnoticed by him. Now Rose was the one on the bed and Sam was the one in the chair. He didn't know if it was heaven, hell, demons, or friggin' angels trying to pull their chain and mess with them by bringing her to them and then yanking her back. Whatever it was, the timing couldn't be worse. Days later and they were no closer to figuring out what was going on with the angels on earth or Metatron in heaven.

He had just grabbed a beer from the fridge, tipping his head back to take a drink—

"We need to talk."

The sudden stern voice of his brother came from seemingly nowhere and he struggled to not choke on his drink in surprise.

"Geez Sam, m-make a sound, would you?" he sputtered, trying to clear his throat. Beer down the windpipe wasn't the most dignified way to die, he internally snarked at himself.

"My…apologies."

Noticing the odd dialect, he narrowed his eyes as he turned to fully face Sam. He was standing absolutely upright and his expression was solemn. Dean couldn't help but bristle up in response, barely keeping himself from reaching for his gun.

It wasn't Sam.

"Ezekiel."

Not-Sam gave a single nod. "Yes."

Setting down his drink, Dean did his best not to groan as a new headache started to pick up steam. Great. This could only mean more trouble.

"What can I do for ya, 'Zeke?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned against the counter. "It's been a little crazy around here."

"That is what we must discuss," Ezekiel agreed.

"Great. Got any suggestions? I'm open to anything at this point," he sighed. Ezekiel kept Sam's green eyes stern, his mouth forming a tight line.

"Yes. They must leave."

Dean openly stared, taken aback. "What?"

"Castiel and Rosette must leave," Ezekiel repeated, unbothered by Dean incredulous expression.

"You've gotta be out of your damn mind!" Dean snapped. "Cas doesn't have his grace and Rose is friggin' unconscious! And you want us to toss them out on their ass?!"

"I cannot stay if they remain," Ezekiel told him tersely. "I will have to leave and I cannot promise that your brother would last without my presence healing him."

The hunter felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at the angel's ultimatum and thinly veiled threat. His nails began to dig into his arms as he kept them crossed.

"Why?" he asked. "Why can't you stay if they're here? They're not going to hurt you."

"It's not that. The angels will be looking for Castiel. His presence alone will bring the force of the remaining heavenly host down on our heads."

"So we hide him. He doesn't have his grace and we can get him tatted up with protection sigils—make him an angel blind spot," reasoned Dean. "We can figure this out. You don't have to run."

If possible, Sam's body seemed to coil up even tighter as Ezekiel watched him. There was something unreadable deep in the borrowed eyes of his brother.

"And what of Rosette Herondale?"

Dean gave a half shrug, confused. "What about her? She's been out for days."

"She has been _corrupted_ ," he all but snarled. "It would be a mercy to end her now."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," intervened Dean, bright green eyes narrowing, taking a step forward as his tone lowered, becoming threatening. " _End_ her? No one's ending anyone, pal."

"It would be a mercy, as I said," Ezekiel told him, standing by his words and not stepping away from the hunter.

"The hell do you know about her to want to kill her?" growled Dean. "You're sharing mental space with Sam so you must know that she's a good person and she's family to us."

Ezekiel wasn't swayed. "Your relationship with her doesn't change the fact that she is damaged."

"Then help us fix her!" he snapped. "Help us make things right! Trust me like I've been trusting you!"

He slowly shook his head, Sam's hair swaying. "I'm afraid it's not so simple."

"And healing Sam after stopping the Hell Trials is a walk in the park?" Dean argued.

"It's difficult, yes," he agreed, "but it is possible to heal your brother, although it takes time and power to do so. Rosette is not so fortunate."

The elder hunter clenched his jaw, annoyed. "So you know what's wrong with her?"

"Everything is wrong with her."

His chest felt tight at the angel's words.

"Narrow it down for me."

Again, the borrowed eyes of his brother flashed with the unknown emotion.

"She is broken. Her soul has been twisted and forged into something unrecognizable. It's _screaming_."

The kitchen fell silent and he saw some of the tension leave Sam's shoulders, the dark shadow leaving his eyes.

"I really do mean that death would be a mercy for her."

"Yeah, well, we're not about killing our friends here, so your plan can stuff it," Dean told him firmly. He held up a hand to keep Ezekiel from speaking up again. "Listen, give us some time. Let us try to find out a solution for Cas and Rose. We'll get Cas tatted up and we'll do some more digging about Rose. Just—don't do anything rash without talkin' to me first, all right?"

There was a brief pause.

"Very well."

When Sam's body rounded the corner Dean slowly released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. Beer long forgotten, he fished out a cellphone and scrolled through his contacts before finding the name he was looking for. His call was answered on the second ring.

* * *

The yellow '74 Gremlin X rolled down the long abandoned side road, coming to an easy stop where the eldest Winchester waited. It could be a little tricky to see the entry since it was largely below ground level and she had only been there once before and she had been following the brothers. Turning off the car and grabbing her bag from the passenger seat, she smiled and gave a wave as she got out.

"Wassup, Braveheart?" she chirped, meeting Dean halfway for a hug. "Everything okay? Sounded like an SOS on the phone."

"Yeah, things have gotten a little complicated," Dean sighed, giving her a tired sigh. Charlie raised an eyebrow at the vague answer and quickly noticed that they were short one Winchester.

"Hey, where's Sam? Is he okay?"

The corner of his mouth twitched downward in a frown and her stomach fell to her toes.

"Something's wrong," she stated.

"Well, a few things are wrong if I'm being honest," he admitted with another sigh. "Sam being one of them."

"Last I heard you guys were working on the trials? Did you get to the final one?"

"Yeah," he said with a heavy sigh. "It was to turn a demon human again…"

Her eyes widened at the task they were expected to complete. "Is-is that even possible? Sounds more like a Kobayashi Maru if you ask me..."

"Oh, we found a way. Almost finished it too but…" There was a slight catch in his voice. "It would've killed Sam in the process…"

"Oh Dean…" she couldn't help but whisper. "So—what happened when he didn't go through with it?"

His hands slipped into his jacket's pockets and his gaze flickered downward for a moment. "What always happens. We get screwed. Something backfired and the effects of the trials seemed to kick into high gear and Sam was gettin' bad so fast we hardly had enough time to get to the hospital."

"What do you need from me? What can I do to help?" she asked, more than willing to do what she could for them. "Forge some insurance policies? Find some dirt on a doctor that can help? Rally the troops? Do hunters have troops or are they the troops—whatever it is, I can rally 'em."

"Thanks," he said with a hint of a smile, "but actually I need you to research angel possession instead. Specifically—how to kick them out of a vessel."

Charlie blinked in confusion at the request. "Angel possession? What does that—?"

She connected the dots before she finished her question and her mouth fell open. If Sam was hurt so badly that only an angel could help, someone who wasn't Castiel …

"Dean…?"

His jaw tightened. "Sam was dying, what choice did I have?"

Sam. Dying. Possession. Angels. Research. A dozen questions wanted to spill out at once but she actively pushed them aside and tried to form a coherent thought.

"Okay—okay, so Sam…currently has an angel on his shoulder right? So what's the issue, besides the obvious? I'm sure he didn't handle that news well."

When there was a pause, her stunned expression returned and she lowered her voice to a strained whisper rising higher in pitch, affronted.

"Are you telling me that Sam _doesn't_ know that he has an angel riding shotgun?!"

"Like I said, things got complicated," Dean answered shortly, "and that's only half of it."

She threw her hands up in the air in disbelief. "What else could complicate that?!"

"Our friend was brought back from the dead, by who or what we don't know, and is now basically comatose for equally unknown reasons."

A beat.

"I should really stop asking if things can get worse," she groaned, mostly to herself. She took a breath. "So, what friend is undead?"

"Her name's Rose. We're working on her case but I need you to work on Sam's on the down low—"

"Wait…Rose? As in, Rosette Herondale?"

This time Dean's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at her in surprise. "You know each other?"

 _Busted_ , she cringed. "No—I'm mean, yes, but not, like, in real life. I mean, I know her in—in theory?"

"Yeah, that clears things right up."

She huffed at the jibe. Might as well be honest. "When I was researching monsters and things that go bump in the night, I came across these books by Carver Edlund—"

The hunter's face fell immediately at the name and that was all the confirmation she needed.

"So the books are true then?" she asked brightly. "Because let me say, thank you for saving the world and everything. Really, really appreciate it."

"We've got to get rid of those books," he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. She couldn't help but give a sympathetic frown.

"They're online…" Though she was sorry that the Winchester himself didn't seem to be a fan of his own story, she couldn't help the excited grin that pulled at her lips, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. "But wow—you guys have done so much!"

He let loose a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thanks. Still so weird, but thanks."

"So you said Rose is back? How did that happen?" she asked curiously. "The last story was _The Man Who Knew Too Much_ and that was when she died. Total cliffhanger, be-tee-dubs."

"No idea," Dean shrugged. "She was only topside for hardly a day before she collapsed and she hasn't woken up since."

"Well, that's concerning." A thought came to mind and she brightened up. "Hey! Why don't you trying calling Crowley?"

The instant scowl was answer enough but she gave a wave to quickly dismiss his reaction.

"I mean, I get it, King of Hell and everything, but I'd say he's definitely an option since this is Rose we're talking about," she explained. His brows knitted in confusion.

"What's that supposed to mean? Because it's Rose?" he asked.

"Seriously?" asked Charlie in surprise. "Didn't—didn't you guys notice that Crowley was nicer when Rose was around?"

This time he laughed out loud at the idea. "I don't know what those books say, but Crowley has never been nice to us."

"Maybe not to you guys directly, but he did help once Rose was brought onto the scene. Like finding the Horsemen, Pestilence and Death?"

"Yeah, and taking Bobby's soul while he was at it," countered Dean. "Real hero material."

"What about when he still didn't collect her deal when it was due? Hm?" she asked. "He could've strong-armed Castiel or—or found some work around, but he didn't."

"So we're supposed to trust him because he didn't kill her? Might be too low of a bar."

"Well, he also healed her when her leg was broken? Back in _Weekend at Bobby's_."

His brows furrowed again. "She said that Cas had healed her…"

"Well, yeah. Can't really blame her though, you guys would totally freak," she shrugged. Another moment came to mind. "Oh! _And_ when Crowley visited her in _Caged Heat_ and you guys were trying to figure out how to get Sam's soul, when Rose's offered to give up her soul so she could go try to free Sam from the Hell side of things—like a literal soul hack which is so cool, and—"

"Wait, wait!" interrupted Dean. "She was going to give up her soul?!"

"Yeah, _but_ Crowley told her no," she continued, a smile tugging at her lips as it did when she started to get excited about something she was invested in. "He even told her that he would resurrect if anything happened to her, noble cause or not. That _she_ was his in her entirety, that her soul was only a piece of that."

"How in the hell do you know all of that?" asked Dean, incredulous. "I thought the books were about me and Sam?"

"Yeah, you guys are the main characters, but there's side information too which is awesome. It's nice to get to learn more about the characters—people, I mean," she corrected. "Plus it gives more Crose moments, so, yay!"

Eyebrows nearly rose to meet his hairline. "Crose?"

"Oh, y'know…when you ship Crowley and Rose, so Crose…?" she gave a sheepish little laugh. "I'm a bit of a fan…"

He couldn't but groan again as he grouched, "When all of this gets cleared up we need to have a serious talk about Rose givin' up her soul and your taste in reading material."

* * *

" _I only have one rule: Make a deal. Keep it."_

A couple of years ago he had a made a prime example out of the demon, Guy, who was running his scheme of making deals and cashing them in early. It was shortly after the death of Rosette and he had his forces combing for Meg so to bring her to him to exact vengeance for daring to steal from him and alter his deal. When it was brought to his attention that one of his crossroads demons were trying to cheat the system, improve their numbers by killing the humans the week of their deals so to collect their souls, an intense anger tore through him at the arrogance. His anger was justified, of course. That kind of dealing would be the downfall for their kind. No one would sell their soul if they would die in the same week.

Looking back, he could see where he may have been…a bit overzealous. He had beaten him into a bloody pulp, never allowing the reprieve of finally dying. In fact he was still strung up in some obscure corner of Hell, if he recalled correctly. He certainly didn't hold back, nor did he regret it. It struck too close to him. Too close…

" _Just in case there was the shadow of a doubt…When I make a deal, I stick to it even when angels interfere. So there's no need to worry about some underhanded plot to kill you before your new time."_

" _Do you promise?"_

" _I promise."_

The chains rattled as he gave a start and was momentarily disoriented by the all dark room and iron collar locked around his neck. Had he been dozing off? He was a demon and didn't need sleep. He gave an annoyed growl, trying to work his way out of the handcuffs again which only aggravated the barely healed abrasions circling his wrists.

How much time had passed since he was left alone again?

"Rosette…"

She was alive, she was alive, _she was alive_ …His mind couldn't stop repeating the words like a mantra. Countless days— _years_ were spent thinking of the moment where he would be reunited with her. That moment when he would be the one to save her from whatever hell she was subjected to all this time. He would save her…

But he didn't.

And then she was standing right there in front of him. All wide blue eyes, messy red hair, and even the hand-me-down Winchester clothes. After so long imagining what it would be like to see her again, he certainly didn't plan on massive cardiac arrest. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest as he could only stare up at her, injuries and chains forgotten.

His heart then contracted painfully when he heard his words escape him, accusing the Winchesters of trying to trick him, and saw her expression fall at his tone. Her voice was soft and trembled as she spoke to him.

" _You…you couldn't find me…?"_

He failed her, he failed her, he failed her…the words wouldn't stop echoing in his head. She trusted him, put her _faith_ in him and he let her down in the worst way possible. Before he could try to figure out what to say, she pulled out a chain that was hidden by the collar of her shirt and he recognized the MacLeod signet ring. He was openly staring at her now, unsure if he was even breathing at this point. Why would she still have that? Did she always wear it before? Had he forgotten? She was still—she was still holding onto that piece—that reminder of his wretched humanity?

" _It's me…I promise…"_

Then she did the most wonderfully Rosette thing and she _smiled_ at him. After everything, she still showed him that undeserved kindness…

And he begged for her forgiveness.

" _Crowley—"_

No sooner had she said his name that everything was ripped out from under their feet once again. She suddenly froze before collapsing to the floor. She didn't react when he shouted for her, when he thrashed against his restraints. She didn't so much as flinch when Sam, Dean, and Castiel came barging into the dungeon or when the youngest carefully lifted her into his arms. While the action was well-meaning, a surge of anger and jealousy tore through him as he glared, daring to snarl as he demanded to know what happened. Only to watch on helplessly as she was carried out of the room and away from him.

Now he had lost track of how much time had properly passed and there was no sign of anyone bothering to stop by and update him. What happened? Why did it happen? Where was she all this time when he was searching for her? He had too many questions and no answers. If he could just get out of these bloody cuffs then he could help—

There was a creak and the dungeon door opened, causing a smirk to form and hazel eyes to gleam.

"Hello, Squirrel."

* * *

 **REVIEW! Your thoughts would be loved as always! Again, I'm so sorry for the delay. The chapter layout changed and somethings had to be adjusted, plus work and life kept getting in the way. I'm hoping to have the next one out sooner since I'm so excited to write it and have been planning it for ages. Lots going on on this chapter, but next chapter will be Crowley and Rose, so excited for you all to read it!**

 **I hope you enjoyed and your thoughts would be loved!**


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